


The Best of Friends

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, Jon Snow Knows Nothing, M/M, and idiot boys, and lots of biting, lots of fluff, lots of smut, mostly about relationships, only fun and fluff and smut, there's zero angst here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-08 21:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17394233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: At least his head feels better, not hammering so much anymore. The headache has settled to a low thrum in the back of his mind. But instead now Jon’s throat is aching, feeling dry and raw and sore. What the hell has he been doing last night??The realisation dawns on him slowly, what with his brain being pretty useless before the day’s first coffee. Don’t talk to Jon before coffee, that’s a mantra everyone in his life knows by heart. Carefully, trying not to move too fast, Jon cranes his neck to the side, his gaze falling on a smooth, pale back, a long neck, a head full of shortish, sand-coloured locks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic started as a gorgeous edit by @whereismywillpower on tumblr - I can't link stuff to save my life, sorry! BUT - I reblogged it again on my tumblr @owlsinathens ^^
> 
> I loved it so much and asked, and got the permission, to write a fic about it. So here it is! 
> 
> At their request we have bottom Theon here, something that seems to always happen in my longer stories, but I do believe in Switching, so. 
> 
> I'm... sorry? for the lack of angst - the AU I'm currently working on is bloody _packed_ with it, so a break from that is nice! 
> 
> Thank you, @Quicksilvermaid, as always, for being my Alpha Reader and friend. Your help with this is greatly appreciated! :*

The sound of a car horn blaring cuts through the nice, tranquil darkness. He’s not awake, not really, and his head hurts. A lot. Jon doesn’t open his eyes, unwilling to let sleep go without a fight. The pounding beneath his temples seems to get worse when he moves, so he keeps his head very still against the cool fabric of something soft underneath, slowly slipping back into a light, ache-infiltrated sleep. 

It’s the harsh morning sun that finally manages to fully wake him. Drowsily, Jon blinks at the brightness streaming in through the window, casting bizarre shadows on the soft, golden satin sheets that are covering him. Confused, Jon shakes his head, still resting against the pillow. He’s reasonably sure he doesn’t own any golden satin sheets.

He moves his legs, just a fraction, first the right then the left, only to still again when he becomes aware of a stiffness to his muscles, a soreness in every limb, very much like after an intense training. Experimentally, Jon moves his arms, discovering the same sensation in them. His shoulders feel tense and when he draws a hand across his neck he flinches at the sudden pain, at the tenderness, as if his skin is covered in bruises. 

At least his head feels better, not hammering so much anymore. The headache has settled to a low thrum in the back of his mind. But instead now Jon’s throat is aching, feeling dry and raw and sore. What the hell has he been doing last night??

The realisation dawns on him slowly, what with his brain being pretty useless before the day’s first coffee. Don’t talk to Jon before coffee, that’s a mantra everyone in his life knows by heart. Carefully, trying not to move too fast, Jon cranes his neck to the side, his gaze falling on a smooth, pale back, a long neck, a head full of shortish, sand-coloured locks. 

_ Seven fucking hells.  _

Slowly, anxious not to disturb the sleeping man - please let him be sleeping - Jon shimmies out of bed, holding his breath at every noise, every rustle of the covers he causes. He stiffly swings his legs out of bed - and thanks his lucky stars for his natural neatness, even when sloshed. All his clothes are in one place, not folded like he usually does, but  _ there _ . He must’ve dropped them in his haze to get into the bed. With a stranger. 

Cursing inwardly, Jon manages to dress himself without tripping over his own feet, a rare success, until he comes to his shoes. Shoe. The left one is missing. Fuck. Jon sighs, silently of course, and tiptoes around the bed, feeling incredibly stupid. What on earth has gotten into him? He’s really not the type to have random one-night-stands with (hopefully at least attractive) strangers in clubs.

He finds his shoe on the other side of the bed and, bending down to retrieve it, is hit by the full extent of what has happened. Stranger. Club. Sex. One-night-stand.  _ With a fucking stranger.  _ Jon’s head is reeling. Herpes. Gonorrhea. Oh gods, his cock will fall off!! What if he’s gotten that dude preggers - well, maybe not that. 

And then he spies it, right under his traitorous left shoe. A torn condom wrapper. Dizzy with relief Jon sways on one foot for a moment. It really seems like his brain hasn’t completely shut down last night. With his shoe in hand he straightens, his gaze falling on the bedside table. And on two more torn wrappers. What the actual… 

Not that Jon doesn’t have confidence in his dick, so far he’s been a faithful, reliable ally. But  _ three times _ with someone he doesn’t know, and with the amount of alcohol in his system is… quite impressive. Jon can’t help a grin as he slips into his shoe, ready to fuck off and pretend this never happened - and that’s when his gaze accidentally falls on the sleeping guy’s face. Damn.

It’s a series of images through his mind, like in a bad movie flashback, glimpses of that face in the dancing stroboscope lights, of blue eyes following Jon through the throng of people, seeming to undress him right there on the dancefloor. 

The soft, compelling voice in his ear, somehow clearly audible above the blaring of the music.  _ You look really cute. I really want to fuck you, you look so good.  _ Which had actually sounded quite romantic, Jon’s drunk mind had thought then, in terms of random strangers hitting on him in clubs. Until the biting had started.

Sharp teeth in his skin, sinking into the spot between neck and shoulder, a deep, hard suction that hurt as much as it was electrifying. Jon’s head tilting in an instinctive gesture, a moan escaping his throat. The man’s eyes glittering in triumph. 

The rest is dim, a flurry of sensations, a hand on his hip, his tongue lapping over a hardened nipple, a handful of hair as he holds him down, another bite to his chest, his jaw straining, being unable to stop, unbearably tight heat, an elegant throat exposed to his teeth, a steady crescendo of moans and gasps, a bruising kiss, stumbling over the edge, falling, collapsing...

The man in bed suddenly turns onto his stomach, nearly giving Jon a heart attack. He doesn’t wake up though, and after a last, long look at a very fine pair of buttocks - showing marks that remind him distinctly of fingerprints - Jon finally sneaks out of the bedroom and into a narrow hallway. 

It’s absolutely non-descriptive, no pictures, nothing that hints at who it is there in that bed. Jon passes three more closed doors before finally finding himself at the entrance door, where his jacket is waiting for him, neatly hanging on a hook screwed into the wall. Another jacket lies in a crumpled heap on the floor beneath, and Jon resists the urge to pick it up, instead inspecting the door, first from inside, then from the other side as he gently slides it closed. 

No name on the bell, nor on the mail slot. 

The building smells faintly of cooked cabbage and cats, and Jon doesn’t stop on his way down two floors until he’s safely out on the street. The sun is still too bright and he wishes he had sunglasses. 

Or a glass of water. Or a loo. His gaze falls onto a couple of tiny tables and a few chairs in front of what must be a cafe, just on the opposite side of the street. Contemplating how likely it is that club dude will wake up, come down and find him here, Jon quickly dismisses the thought. He really needs a loo. And coffee.

Feeling halfway restored after a large americano, Jon finally orders a taxi from his phone, having no idea where he actually is, in which part of town. Nothing looks familiar and he’s sure he hasn’t been here before. And most likely never will be again, so he just shrugs it off. The app locates him by itself, it doesn’t matter. 

Three minutes later, once he’s inside the car, Jon leans back into the scuffed, cool leather seat, closing his eyes. The whole situation is something entirely new, the first time in his well-ordered life that he’s done something so… spontaneous. Something so risky. He still doesn’t know at all how this could have happened, how he could have gone home with someone who’s name he didn’t even know. The only thing Jon knows… It had been fucking amazing. 

He’s never going to do that again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Surprise, Jon XD

“Why do I have to be here again?” Jon grumpily sips his Virgin Daiquiri. No alcohol for him in the next couple weeks. He eyes his glass reproachfully. It tastes like shit. “You should know by now that I’m not really a people person.”

“Ha,” Robb says, “Funny. Tell me, no-people-person… how did it happen then that Jory saw you here _dancing_ with Tormund and his gang on Wednesday, huh? And he said you left with someone! That’s not what misantropic people do, Jon.” He pouts. “You still haven’t told me who she was.”

Damn the bloody barkeeper and his loose tongue! Well, at least he hasn’t told Robb _all_ the facts. Not that Jon is ashamed or anything, definitely not. But that thing with Satin had been… not _secret_ , but also not very public. And too short to start thinking about introducing Satin to the Starks. And it’s not that Jon doesn’t think Robb would be okay, some of his friends are gay - but family is something else. Better not risk anything.

He still can’t believe this actually happened. After coming home on Thursday morning, Jon had showered and gone back to bed, and wouldn’t it be for the fading bruises on his neck and the overall vibe of, yay I got laid, that he can’t seem to suppress, he’d be convinced this was all a very weird dream. At least it’s not his own fault, it’s Tormund’s of course, Tormund and his stupid ‘drink for real man’.

“Anyway,” Robb goes on, not minding Jon’s rueful sigh, “I’m sick of having to divide my time between my best friends, when we might as well all hang out together, you and me and Theon. You two will totally hit it off!”

“I am your cousin,” Jon protests, secretly relishing in the best friend part. Shame he has to share the title, which doesn’t exactly warm his heart to that Theon person. And Jon’s already not his biggest fan. From what he has gathered from Robb’s tales and other people’s opinions, he’s a shallow, no-good, fuck-up kind of guy.

Robb just rolls his eyes and captures Jon in a crushing embrace, ruffling his poor hair. “And one of my two best friends, so shut up and be nice.” He peers over Jon’s head, starting to grin happily. “And there he is, late as always. True to form. Theon!” he hollers at the top of his lungs, and waves.

Jon takes a deep breath, raising his hand to pluck his hair back into shape, squares his shoulders and turns around. The polite smile he’s wearing glides off his face, his mouth falls open and his traitorous heart skips a beat.

“Hey,” says the man Jon has fucked three days ago.

***

Funny thing, actually. Despite most of the actual deed (deeds?) still being lost in his misty memory, Jon hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what has happened for even a second, as much as he would like to have. So he recognizes him at once, the wide mouth, the pale blue eyes, the light stubble on his chin…

Jon’s gaze wanders to the very obvious bruise on Theon’s (really??) neck, dimly remembering how he’d spent an inordinate amount of time sucking on that very spot. And then he abruptly remembers the sounds that had drawn from Theon (like, for real??) and promptly blushes up to his ears.

“Theon - Jon, Jon - Theon,” Robb crows merrily next to him, completely oblivious to the silent drama unfolding right under his nose.

Theon’s face is frozen in a mask of utter shock, eyes wide and startled, a somewhat idiotic grin on his lips. After what feels like an eternity he finally extends a slightly shaky hand, swallowing hard, his throat bobbing. Jon stares.

“Nice to, ah… meet you… Jon.”

Jon suddenly realises he must seem like a complete halfwit, standing there sweating, with his mouth open, gaping at Theon’s offered hand. Shaking himself back to order he takes it, praying with all his might that his voice doesn’t sound as squeaky as it does in his head right now.

“Likewise,” he rasps, sounding utterly ridiculous instead. Even Robb cocks an eyebrow at him.

Now a tiny smile is tugging at Theon’s lips, his eyes sparkle mischievously, and _why hasn’t he let go of his hand??_ Jon drops it as if bitten, repressing the urge to wipe it at his pants. It’s awfully stuffy in this dreadful club. With a last, way too long glance at Jon, Theon finally turns to Robb, hugging him before accepting a bottle of lager Robb has produced from somewhere.

Jon grabs the one Robb’s offering him like a lifeline, something to hold on to while he’s trying to reboot his brain. He’s fucked Robb’s best friend. Robb’s friend Theon has been fucked by him. What _are_ the fucking chances… Then one thought emerges crystal-clear from the Gordian knot in his head - Robb mustn’t ever know.

With an abrupt dash Jon pushes himself out of his stupor, mumbling a hushed, “bathroom,” as answer to Robb’s questioning gaze, and squeezes his way through the huge jam of people.

Miraculously he manages to conquer a washbasin for himself, hastily splashing his heated face with cold water.

“Are you running away from me?”

Jon surges up with a decidedly unmanly squeal, staring in the mirror, at his own wide, panicked eyes - and into Theon’s smirking face. He’s gone after him. Jon’s mind is reeling. Well, good, right? He can tell him what he has to, seeing as they’re both here and Robb isn’t, a circumstance which won’t happen that soon again.

“Robb cannot know,” Jon blurts out, his cheeks already heating up again. “You can’t ever tell him!”

“That I had his cousin’s dick up my ass?” Theon retorts, grinning when Jon flinches at his choice of words. “Do you think I’m stupid? He wouldn’t like that one bit.” He groans. “I can’t believe it’s you, of all people. I remember, some couple years ago I saw a pretty redhead in a bar and tried to chat her up - And when Robb noticed he exploded all over me like a bloody grenade.”

“Sansa?” Jon asks weakly, his stomach jolting a little, in a protective-cousin-way, not in a jealous he-thinks-she’s-pretty-way.

“Yeah,” Theon confirms, “I hadn’t recognized her. Haven’t seen her that often at Robb’s place, only when we were kids and then she was away at school and came back looking like that and - let’s say Robb didn’t like it one bit. He nearly punched me. One thing is clear - his family is taboo. Although,” Theon muses, sporting a thoughtful look while rubbing his chin, “I bet it’d be worse if it had been the other way round with your arse and my dick.”

Jon can only stare at him. They’re not alone in here, there’s shouting from what appears to be a pissing contest right next to them, but still. Without the hustle and bustle outside, in this close proximity, little details from Wednesday night start to filter back into Jon’s mind. The taste of Theon’s mouth, for example. The sharp flavour of whisky mixed with something sweet, an alluring blend. Jon catches himself staring at Theon’s lips.

“Listen, Jon…” Theon sighs, seeming reluctant to finish his sentence. “We just pretend nothing happened, alright? I mean, it was an amazing night…”

_Oh?_

“...but I really don’t want to risk Robb’s wrath, and I guess you’re not exactly keen on having him find out either?”

The last part is a question and Jon finds himself nodding. Of course. It never happened. They’ll just hang out when it’s all three of them, should Robb insist on it, and nothing will ever happen again. Theon really is standing _very_ close. And Jon can’t even take a step back or he’d bump into the washbasin.

“So… friends, I guess?” Theon smirks lopsidedly. Jon licks his lips.

“Friends,” he agrees, voice hoarse, before he’s pushed against the bloody basin and Theon’s mouth is crashing down on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone guess what happens next? :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Nothing happens again, right? RIGHT?
> 
> Who are they even kidding?

****

Seems like the Jon that had emerged from Tormund’s aquavit doesn’t necessarily need the alcohol to raise his wicked head. Because that’s definitely something regular Jon does  _ not _ do, kissing his one-night-stand who’s coincidentally his cousin’s best friend in a grimy club bathroom, or shoving him into one of the stalls, or going down on his knees to suck said friend’s dick as if he’s bloody starving for it.

And yet, somehow that’s exactly what he does, opening Theon’s jeans with flying fingers, not even bothering to pull down his pants before closing his lips over the swell of Theon’s dick. He gives a teasing bite, then licks and sucks until the fabric is soaked with saliva, and Theon’s precome.

It’s Theon himself who finally pulls his dick out while simultaneously fisting a hand in Jon’s hair. For a fleeting moment their eyes meet, before Jon is pushed against Theon’s crotch again. He noses underneath his dick, trailing sloppy kisses along the length, then tilting his head and briefly taking one of Theon’s balls into his mouth, making him gasp and shiver.

He repeats this treatment with the other one before returning to Theon’s dick. Jon gives the head a gentle lick, circling the shaft loosely with his fingers. He starts moving his hand up and down slowly while working the slit with his lips and tongue.

“Bloody tease,” Theon pants as he tightens his grip on Jon’s hair, softly pulling him back to look at him. “Fuck, you look great. But you’d look even better with my dick in your mouth.”

Jon rolls his eyes at that corny line. Patience obviously isn’t one of Theon’s virtues. He opens his mouth as wide as he can, and some buried memory kicks in, it’s just like the last time they did this, his throat protesting against the dick being finally rammed into it, his hands still clawing in Theon’s arsecheeks to pull him down even further, his eyes watering with the strain, his own dick so hard it might go off if he’d touched it now.

Jon remembers another little thing he’d done that had seemed to go down well then, he lets the fingers of his right hand wander further, between Theon’s cheeks, and slowly starts to circle his hole, just teasing him like this, until Theon throws his head back and groans. 

Promptly Jon pulls back, abandoning Theon’s twitching dick to take care of his balls again, sucking, licking, while rubbing himself through his pants. A drop of liquid from Theon’s dick smears across his cheek as Jon nuzzles his face into Theon’s groin, biting down on his lower stomach hard enough to make him yelp.

Theon becomes impatient again, taking his dick in hand and guiding it to Jon’s mouth, nudging his lips. Jon keeps his mouth closed, returning his hand to Theon’s ass, rubbing the sensitive skin with a little more pressure this time, feeling the hole slowly giving way to his intrusive fingers. 

“Drowned fucking  _ God _ ,” Theon hisses, his other hand leaving Jon’s hair to clamp at his jaw, forcing him to open his mouth. The second Jon does, Theon slams his dick back in, piercing Jon’s throat to to the root, at least that’s what it feels like. Jon splutters and gags, but when Theon tries to pull back, Jon grabs his hips to hold him steady, he glances up at Theon from under his lashes and purposefully swallows around his cock.

“ _ Fu--uck… _ ” With a nearly painful sounding groan Theon’s hands clutch tightly at Jon’s hair and he spills down his throat, his stomach heaving with the spasms running through him. 

Jon waits for Theon’s dick to soften in his mouth, gently lapping over the head to remove the last droplets before pulling off. Theon is staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. Exactly like last time, Jon remembers now. 

But unlike the last time Theon doesn’t turn around and bend over, instead he drags Jon up and kisses him, both breathless, both eager for it. Theon’s tongue is doing things to him, the way Theon keeps rubbing himself against Jon’s crotch is more than enough, and Jon has barely enough time to rip down his pants before coming all over his hand. 

For a moment Jon just keeps leaning against Theon, then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightens. Theon’s face is now showing the same sheepish look Jon is sure he’s sporting himself, and after a solid minute of mutual staring they both start giggling like little kids. 

“That was…” Jon swallows, unsure which word would fit here. “Amazing.”

“Sure was,” Theon agrees. “Won’t be as easy as we thought, just being friends, when my pants explode everytime I see you.” He sighs and pulls his phone from his back pocket. “Give me your number. We should, ah… meet up sometime. To discuss this. Make a plan how to… be friends.”

Jon elbows the stall door open, ignoring a couple of teenagers’ scandalized looks when there’s  _ two _ guys coming out of the stall. “Discuss, yeah. We can do that, we’re not animals.” He washes his hands with Theon watching him in the mirror, Jon’s own appearance practically screaming  _ I just gave head _ at him, with his mussed hair and his swollen lips and - Jon blushes and quickly scrubs the smear of drying liquid off his cheek. 

He finally rattles down his number and Theon saves it into his phone. He looks up at Jon and, with a smirk, reaches out and pushes a stray curl behind Jon’s ear. They lean forward in the same moment, this kiss now softer than the greedy ones before, like a conclusion. 

“Know what?” Theon says wistfully, an innocent expression on his face before he starts chuckling. “You may be the best friend I ever had.”

***

Jon heads out of the bathroom, slightly worried what Robb will think of both of them having been vanished for such a suspiciously long time. Not that he’d have needed to worry. When he finally spies Robb - or rather, the back of Robb’s head - he’s apparently very busy, wildly making out with Roslin Frey.

“And I thought he was all lonely, pining after us while we were gone. I should’ve known that would not be very robbish.”

Theon has stepped up behind Jon, having dutifully waited the appointed five minutes after Jon’s exit. He’s standing a little too close to Jon to be outside of his usual private bubble, but somehow Jon doesn’t mind. It’s… nice. As is the fact that Theon is slightly taller than him and that his breath ghosts over Jon’s hair every so often. He doesn’t mind that either. 

“Seems like he won’t resurface anytime soon.” Theon smirks down on Jon, casually draping one arm around Jon’s waist. “Wanna dance? Just as friends?”

Smiling, Jon shakes his head. He’s not that much of a dancer really, he only does it when he’s completely wasted, and even then he certainly doesn’t want to dwell too much on how it might look. Theon doesn’t seem too upset about his refusal. 

“How ‘bout I grab us another round then? We’ll creepily stare at people until we get a table, sit down and have a conversation. Just like friends do.”

They never get that table, and after a couple minutes they’re both exhausted from shouting over the blaring music the whole time, so basically they’re just standing around with their drinks. Jon is trying hard not to constantly keep touching Theon, accidentally of course. He’s not very good at it. 

Every other moment Jon sneaks a glance at him, at his throat moving when he swallows, at his long fingers casually drumming against his glass. And sometimes Jon catches Theon doing the same. They might as well be alone in here, neither giving a fuck about the people shoving past them or bumping into them.

Jon is still completely floored by the intensity of all of this. He’s never experienced something similar before, this mad rush of pure want whenever Theon’s eyes meet his, the unbearable need to feel him again, his lips, his hands… He exhales a shuddery breath and Theon’s gaze immediately drops to his mouth, he leans forward ever so slightly and Jon’s lips part in anxious anticipation-

“I’m sorryyyyy!!!” Robb appears seemingly out of nowhere, wedging himself in between Theon and Jon, draping his arms around their shoulders. “I didn’t mean to… but Roslin was… Jon, are you okay?”

“Huh?” Jon tries his best to look like the picture of innocence. “Just tired is all. Actually, I’ll call it a night. See you tomorrow, Robb. Theon…” Jon hesitates for a moment, then gives a halfhearted wave. “It was nice meeting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. _Now_ nothing will happen ever again. Surely. Since it would be stupid.   
> And they aren't stupid. Right. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Repeat after me: 
> 
> Nothing will happen  
> Nothing will happen   
> Nothing will happen  
> ...

Jon can’t sleep. His mind constantly wanders back to the club, or more specifically, the club bathroom. Everything is vivid in his mind, interspersed with less clear flickers of their first night. Jon turns onto his side, groaning in frustration. 

Why in the seven hells did it have to be  _ him _ ??? Of all the guys Jon could’ve fucked, it had to be his cousin’s best friend. No fair. The moment he closes his eyes his phone on the bedside table vibrates. Jon fumbles for it blindly. Probably only Robb. Jon blinks. A number he doesn’t know.

**Unknown number:** Are you asleep? Robb interrogated me for nearly half an hour once you were gone.

Quickly Jon sits up, saving the number into his contacts before writing back.

**Jon:** Not asleep. What did he ask?

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** What I think of you and stuff. I told him your dick and mouth are so good I get hard the second I think of you.

**Jon:** Dude????

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** Kidding XD Nah, I said you seem pretty dull and that you didn’t really talk to me

**Jon:** Thanks, man O.o Did he buy it?

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** Yep. You know how he is, living merrily in his Robb-land, doing all his Robb-things… I thought if I pretend I’m not really interested in you, he’d give up on the idea of the three of us hanging out together. Which would be torture. 

**Jon:** And here I was thinking you like a bit of pain. But?

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** He made his kicked-puppy-face at me until I rolled my eyes and said I could possibly bear your presence every now and then

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** I do

**Jon:** So we really have to be just friends. 

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** I want to feel your teeth in my skin. 

**Jon:** Like you bit me? Or harder?

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** As hard as you dare.

**Jon:** Friends don’t bite each other till they draw blood.

**Mustavoidatallcosts:** Go to sleep, friend. I will. In a minute.

Jon puts his phone down, feeling more confused than ever. This is so not like him, all of this. Normally he’s the guy who gets a crush on someone, stares at them from the distance for a year, and when they finally catch on to his interest and reciprocate, he panics and bails. 

He’s never been assertive or direct, and he certainly has never been one to fuck someone he doesn’t love. Both Ygritte and Satin, his only real relationships so far, have been the ones to chase after him. The ones calling the shots. And Jon has loved them both, has loved everything they’d done. 

Also, Jon muses, he’s never wanted to bite someone before. And now he can’t think of anything but sinking his teeth into Theon’s neck until he screams. “I’m turning into a bloody werewolf,” he mumbles to himself. 

And since speaking to yourself is never a good sign, Jon checks his phone one last time. Nothing. Before he can decide if that’s a good or a bad thing, he’s finally fallen asleep. 

***

What wakes him this time is the smell of coffee and toasted bagels, a raging morning hard-on and the last remnants of his only-for-adults-dream. And Robb, prodding at the tent in his covers, a wide grin on his face.

“Rise and shine! I brought bagels!” He tilts his head curiously. “Really Jon, did you take something…  _ blue?? _ This looks painful.”

Grumpily, Jon swats Robb’s hand away and crawls out of bed to vanish into his bathroom where he guiltily has a very fast, very intense morning wank to the thought of Theon’s fingers pulling his hair. Upon his return he finds Robb sprawled out on his bed, fiddling with his phone. Now he lets it sink and, with a dramatic sigh, turns to Jon. 

“You did like Theon, right?” Jon shrugs noncommittally, and Robb smiles gleefully as if Jon had just declared Theon to be the coolest thing since sliced bread. “Very good! Then we can do it together this time.”

Jon suddenly has a sense of foreboding. Something really bad will happen. Very soon.

“Our movie night on Tuesday,” Robb elaborates, typing something into his phone. “My movie night with Theon should be tomorrow, and if we all do it together…” He looks up, grinning happily. “Roslin wants to go out with me on Tuesday.”

“Congrats,” Jon mutters weakly. “I’m glad you follow the old bro before… you know.”

Robb tsks, shaking his head reproachfully. Jon wants to shake  _ him.  _ Movie night entails a lot of food, a lot of alcohol and a dark room. How on earth could he even survive this, with Theon in close proximity? He’ll have his head in his lap the moment the lights are out and. Jon swallows. The thought is enough to bring him back to life and he quickly sits down.

“Do we have to?” he mutters. “Actually, I don’t think your friend likes me too much. He seems very arrogant.”

“Oh no,” Robb conspicuously doesn’t look at Jon, fiddling with his phone again. “He said you seem… ah… nice.”

Liar, Jon thinks half-exasperated, half-amused, not even questioning Theon’s side of the story. It’s just so Robb, wanting everyone to get along, whether they like it or not. Jon sighs. He doesn’t have the heart to disappoint his cousin, so. There’s only one thing to do. Make sure he’s sitting next to Robb on movie night and ignore Theon’s presence as best as he can. And wank his cock off before until there’s no chance for want left.

***

Of course Robb practically runs into the living room after he’s let Jon in, flopping down into his favourite chair, triumphantly grinning at his victory of bagging the most comfy spot. So Jon has no other choice than to sit on the couch. The very small couch. Next to Theon, who’s already there. 

Their greeting is stiff and awkward, Theon’s face a blank mask, while Jon is frowning at him as if he’s not particularly thrilled to see him. In truth the thrills running through him haven’t stopped since he’s come through the door, not helped by Theon’s casual, “Snow.”

It’s exciting, hearing Theon say his last name in such a disinterested manner. It makes Jon want to go over, straddle his lap and make him moan out,  _ Jon.  _ Just like he did in that bathroom. Wouldn’t go down well with Robb over in his chair though, so Jon just crawls into his couch corner as far from Theon as possible. 

Not that he stays there. The first pick of the night is one of Robb’s beloved classic horror movies, and while Jon would never own up to it even if you’d shoved bamboo splinters under his fingernails, he’s a huge scaredy cat and jumps at every tiny bump. Which is embarrassing enough. And this time each little jump seems to get him closer to the middle of the couch, until his bare arm brushes Theon’s. It nearly sends Jon off the couch completely.

Really, how can Robb over there keep happily munching on his peanuts, laughing at some guy being stabbed multiple times, when the room is lighting up like fireworks from the sparks flying between him and Theon?? Jon thinks it must be the most obvious thing ever. 

Theon’s hand is now slowly making its way up Jon’s thigh, only inches from his cock straining against his jeans, and why did he have to wear these damn tight jeans today? Jon shivers. Who is he even kidding? Because his arse looks fantastic in them and he wanted to show it off to Theon, that’s why. 

Soon Theon is plastered to his side, his hand teasingly ghosting over Jon’s cock before he leans over in the pretense of grabbing another cushion, his breath shivering over Jon’s neck before his lips graze Jon’s skin, and still Robb doesn’t notice, not Jon’s little gasps, not how close they are sitting now, halfway on top of each other. 

And leave it to Robb to turn a dire situation into a hopeless one. 

“Shots,” he declares smugly after horror film number two and many near-death-experiences for Jon, weaseling into the kitchen to return half a minute later with a bottle of Tequila, three glasses, a bowl of lemons and a salt shaker, dropping half of it in the process. 

Jon bends down to catch a lemon that is just rolling its way under the couch. He straightens, juggling it in his hands while studying Theon. He’s looking at the shots Robb is pouring with a comical mix of resignation and amusement. 

He finally looks up when lifting the glass to his mouth, eyebrow twitching. “Well, here goes nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> Nothing will happen  
> Nothing will happen  
> Nothing will happen


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jon. It's as if all circumstances are rallying against him. It's not his fault... okay yes, it totally is. Half of it.

“Remember,” Robb slurs, “remember when you smuggled in the vodka and Mum found it? Gosh, but she was  _ mad.” _

“I do remember vividly,” Theon sighs. “She said I couldn’t come visit you for a month and you couldn’t go out.”

While Robb giggles and toasts to the freedom of having alcohol whenever they please now, Jon says nothing. He hadn’t been there for the vodka incident, being away at school at the time, but he remembers Robb’s desolate letters, and Jon’s anger at the unknown Theon for putting Robb into such a situation. 

They’re all sitting in a circle on the carpet now, lemons, salt and shots in the middle between them. The bottle is still half full, but Robb is completely sloshed. 

“And that time Mum heard you talking of how you sucked whatshisname’s dick - oh the hellfire she was raining down on you! Sin! Purgatory!” Robb mimics his mother’s voice perfectly. “I swear she’s been more catholic than the Pope whenever it suited her.”

Jon’s ears prick up and he looks away from Theon’s face, something like jealousy coiling stupidly in his gut. Theon laughs weakly, reaching out as if to pick another lemon. Instead he squeezes Jon’s thigh for a second until Jon looks up, then shakes his head with a lewd smile. 

“Some things are worth risking hell for,” he says with a wink. 

Jon can feel his ears reddening and quickly downs another shot, lest Robb notices his inner bedlam. He needn’t have worried. Robb hiccups, then he slinks sideways until his head is resting against Theon’s shoulder. 

“Have to take your word for that,” he giggles. “Ew, dicks are so gross. Except mine. Mine is okay.”

“Whatever, Stark,” Theon says, shoving Robb away so that he sways for a moment before slumping against Jon’s shoulder this time. “Mine is better.”

Robb lifts his head, snorting in disbelief. Then he looks at Jon, clear expectation in his hazy eyes. Jon frowns, unsure what to do. Robb nudges him. 

“Er… mine is best?” Jon says, looking over at Theon just in time to see him shiver delicately, eyes falling shut as if he remembers…  _ something. _

“HA!” Robb exclaims, blindly fumbling for the tequila bottle. “We should call Ygritte and ask. She was Jon’s girlfriend,” he informs Theon before taking a big gulp, not even bothering with a glass. “And while we didn’t hear about his dick, we aaall heard about--”

“Robb,” Jon says, embarrassed. 

“--aaall about his  _ other  _ skills, right, Jon?” Robb leans over to Theon, stage-whispering conspiratorially. “She said he’s damn good with his mouth. Can you believe it?”

For a moment Theon says nothing, his mouth opening and closing. He’s fidgeting where he sits, moving both hands into his lap. Jon stares at the floor, worrying his lip until it hurts. Finally he looks up again - to find Theon’s gaze fixed on his mouth, his breathing rougher now. 

“Is that so,” he mumbles at length, leaning forward ever so slightly. 

Jon shudders at the look in his eyes. His dick, having calmed down somewhat when removed from Theon’s immediate proximity, gives an interested twitch and Jon automatically covers his crotch with a hand to shush it. Theon swallows. 

Jon watches his throat bobbing, then lets his gaze wander up over Theon’s stubbled jaw and down his neck again, where the bruise Jon had sucked into his skin nearly a week ago is mostly hidden by the collar of his sweater. It’s almost faded now, yellowish instead of purple, and Jon feels a pang at the thought of it vanishing completely. 

As if reading his thoughts, Theon lifts a hand and grazes the spot with his fingertips, eyes half-closed, lips parted. Jon’s dick gives a jolt and he bites back a needy groan. What the fuck is Theon thinking, acting like this when Robb--

Jon tears his gaze away and to the side, where Robb has been suspiciously quiet for the last minutes. And now Jon sees why. Robb has slumped backwards, mouth open, eyes closed. Jon leans over, reaching out, meaning to shake Robb’s shoulder - Robb snores so of a sudden Jon flinches hard, then he hears Theon chuckle. 

“Seems he is out cold.”

Jon turns back to face him - and flinches again when he finds Theon on his knees, closer than before, his eyes glittering determined. We can’t be doing this, Jon thinks in the same moment as his traitorous body leans forward, his mouth meeting Theon’s halfway. 

It’s as if there’s an electric current buzzing through Jon as their lips meet, his whole body comes alive with raw need and overwhelming pleasure. Theon makes a sound against his lips, and that sound is all it takes for Jon to lose it completely.

He fists a hand into Theon’s sweater and rips him forward until their chests are flush together. Theon’s mouth opens and Jon licks his way in, tasting salt and lemon and tequila, and that particular flavor he’s tried so hard to forget. It turns into a rough, hard kiss quickly, Theon’s hands sliding in Jon’s hair, their tongues gliding against each other, a bite to Jon’s lower lip sending jolts down his spine and turning his bones to jelly. 

Theon scrambles to get closer, he’s all but sitting in Jon’s lap now, and while it isn’t exactly comfortable how Jon’s feet press against the floor, how strained his thighs feel like this - it’s all forgotten when Theon starts rubbing his crotch against Jon’s, the angle awkward and not quite enough but so  _ good. _

Jon’s hands move under Theon’s sweater, under the shirt he’s wearing beneath and up his torso until they find his nipples, hard and round and pebbled, and Theon moans lowly into Jon’s mouth as he tweaks them harshly, pressing himself tighter against Jon, his hands holding onto his hair so hard it should hurt. 

It doesn’t, there’s not one nerve in Jon experiencing anything but pure pleasure right now, Theon’s wet mouth is so warm, the bulge in his jeans keeps rubbing against Jon’s own hard dick and it’s all too much and not enough and Jon just wants to--

A loud snore, then a cough has them shooting apart, but Robb doesn’t wake up, he just gasps for air for a couple of moments before snoring loudly again. It’s like a bucket of ice-cold water over Jon’s head. What on earth was he thinking? What were  _ they  _ thinking??

Jon turns his reproachful glance at Theon, who’s looking as horrorstruck as Jon feels. His face is still flushed and he’s breathing heavily, but he too is looking at Robb. And now he shakes his head, as if to collect himself, slowly moving over and turning Robb gently onto his side. 

“We shouldn’t have…” Theon starts, not looking at Jon. “Not with him here and lying on his back drunk as they come.”

“Not ever,” Jon says crossly, folding his arms in front of his chest. “We’re terrible friends. Terrible people.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Theon shakes his head again, scrambling to his feet and gathering the bottle and the glasses. “I’m not normally… I normally can control myself.”

He stumbles out in direction of the kitchen, and with a last look at Robb Jon follows with the remaining lemons and the salt shaker. He finds Theon leaning against the kitchen counter, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders trembling, and something in Jon melts to a puddle.

“Hey,” he says gently, putting down the stuff before hesitantly laying a hand on Theon’s shoulder. “It was my fault, okay? I should have controlled myself better, too.”

Theon lets his hands sink and Jon gapes at him. His eyes are teary alright, but his mouth is pulled into a wide smile. Jon can’t believe his eyes. He’s laughing. Laughing!!!

“I’m sorry,” Theon wheezes between chuckles, “I just thought about what kind of face Robb would have made if he’d woken up to us nearly fucking right there on his living room floor.”

Jon stares at him, flabbergasted. There’s something strange bubbling up in his chest, he doesn’t want to,  _ it’s not funny at all _ , they’re horrible, it was horrible - It’s no use, and Jon admits defeat when the laughter bubbles out of his throat and from his lips. 

“He’d have thought it’s still a horror movie,” he gasps, perfectly able to picture Robb’s blue eyes filled with drunken terror at the sight. “He’d never touch tequila ever again!”

They’re leaning against each other, Theon quietly laughing into Jon’s hair, Jon’s hand on Theon’s chest to steady himself. Finally the giggles and snorts fizzle out and Jon heaves a deep sigh, chuckling one last time before doing his best to pull a serious face. 

“It still wasn’t right,” he says solemnly, taking a step back. And immediately misses the warmth of Theon’s body. “We have to talk about this when we’re sober again and not behaving like horny Bonobos.”

“Agreed.” 

Theon sighs and wipes his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling a little. It’s adorable somehow, and Jon feels his throat tighten at the thought of never doing anything with Theon again. Anything naughty, that is. 

“I’m going to stay here ‘till he wakes up,” Theon offers now, “make sure he drinks some water and goes to bed.”

“Thank you,” Jon says, and then he leans forward, because he’s an idiot and he can’t help himself and it’s going to be the last time he gets to do this anyway. “I’ll text you”

With that he claims Theon’s mouth one more time, relishing in the taste of him, the softness of his lips. 

“Good night, Jon,” Theon says, then winks. “At least you get to wank once you come home. Can’t very well do that here.”

“I wouldn’t put it beyond you,” Jon says, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, but now that's gotta be it, right? They'll have a talk and be UNDER CONTROL from now on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm bored so i'm posting another chapter.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Theon grins as Jon rolls his eyes and shakes his head. ‘Meeting like this’ is nothing else but having a coffee at the little cafe in Theon’s street where Jon had waited for his cab when he’d been here the first time. They’ve picked it out as a possible meeting point for discussing the rules for their… _thing…_ whatever it is. Madness, Jon thinks, his skin already tingling in anticipation just from sitting across Theon.

He watches him sip his coffee, long fingers wrapped around the cup, blue eyes glittering with mirth. Jon scowls, half annoyed, half horny. Theon is having way too much fun with this fucked up situation. Well, it’s definitely _not_ funny. Not going behind Robb’s back, not the constant need to reach over and just _touch,_ not the fact that Theon’s tongue darting out to lick foam from the corner of his mouth is enough to send Jon’s mind reeling again, not the fact that he’s now caught in a not-relationship with someone he doesn’t even know--

“You look so serious,” Theon says, wiping a thumb across his upper lip. Jon swallows. “It’s not as if we’re doing anything, right? We’re just talking.” Theon leans back, stretching his legs under the table. One of it touches Jon’s and he jumps in his seat. Theon stiffens for a second, then grins. “Okay, let’s do this. So. Rule number one. We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Yeah.” Jon nods, pulling his leg out of Theon’s reach, immediately wanting to put it back again and scolding himself silently for it. “I hate lying to Robb. So we agree, right? We’ll only meet when it’s the three of us. And when we do we’ll be on our best behaviour.”

Theon sighs, but nods. Good. Jon leans back too now, rubbing the back of his neck. Now that this is clear - what on earth should they talk about? They have nothing in common but Robb. They’re nothing to each other. Just two people who happened to have sex. Mind-blowing, life-altering, core-shattering sex. God, Jon wishes he’d remember the actual sex! He licks his lips, lost in thought for a moment.

“So… this is it then, I guess.”

Theon’s cheery voice rips Jon out of the images in his head and he coughs, self-conscious. “Yeah. This is it. Thanks for…” _The best sex I_ think _I ever had even if I don’t remember the details._ “Everything.” He gets up, stretching his arms, then reaches a hand out to Theon who’s standing up too now. Theon takes it, squeezes lightly. Their eyes meet. The air seems to crackle, like before a lightning storm.

“My place?” Theon asks, voice thick with need. His hand in Jon’s is trembling.

“Yours,” Jon sighs in resignation.

***

Lips and tongues locked they stumble to the door of Theon’s apartment. Theon fumbles with the keys, cursing when he doesn’t get them in at once, until Jon rips them out of his shaking hands and opens the door himself.

His jeans are down and his dick is out before they’ve even closed the door behind them. With one foot still tangled in his pants he’s dragged into a living room he hasn’t seen the last time. Theon kisses him again while unbuttoning his shirt and Jon breaks the kiss to greedily latch onto one of his nipples, pinching the other one with his fingers until Theon groans.

Doing a ridiculous little hop to finally get rid of his jeans, Jon nearly crushes into the couch table while trying to simultaneously pull off his shirt and keep his hands and mouth on Theon’s skin. They make it to the couch without broken bones, which can only be counted as a victory.

The only thought Jon is capable of anymore is Theon’s arse. And Theon’s dick, and Theon’s nipples, and Theon’s flushed face. It’s a good thing Theon’s brain seems to still be functioning, or Jon would do it like this, bareback on the couch with no preparation whatsoever.

As it is, Theon fingers himself open while Jon tears three condoms before finally getting the fourth one over his cock intact. He doesn’t bother with kisses or any other finesses, he just pushes Theon back and into him with one hard thrust, stars exploding before his eyes as he’s finally in him.

The urgency leaves him after a few deep thrusts, his hands start wandering, mapping out Theon’s chest. Jon strokes Theon’s nipples with his thumbs, digging his other fingers into his ribs. And the sounds Theon makes from this… It’s over before Jon knows it.

“That was…”

Theon sounds decidedly breathless, maybe because Jon is still crushing him with his whole weight. Reluctantly, Jon rolls off of him and goes to get rid of the condom. When he gets back Theon hasn’t moved and Jon sits down next to him. Not touching is impossible so he loosely wraps his fingers around Theon’s soft, sticky cock.

“Oh good,” he says, “you’ve come too.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Theon shuffles into a sitting position, swaying slightly. “I think that part was over before you were inside.”

Ha. Jon tightens his hold, grinning as Theon’s dick twitches against his palm. His head is still swimming somewhat. “That’s a relief. I cannot believe I didn’t even wait for you before I...before I…”

“Exploded like a volcano?” Theon giggles, a nice sound, Jon’s post-sex-hazy mind thinks. “Don’t worry about it.” Theon shifts. His dick has started filling with blood again and he tangles a hand in Jon’s hair, grinning expectantly. “Suck my dick and I might forgive you this time.”

Jon rolls his eyes. And opens his mouth as he slides down.

***

Twenty minutes and a strenuous (rewarding) blowjob later, Jon is watching Theon with a slight nagging of envy. He’s just drifted off to sleep after coming, sated and relaxed, while Jon is left wide awake, not knowing what to do with himself now.

It’s getting late and Jon knows he should go home, but somehow it’d feel wrong to just fuck off on a sleeping Theon. Again. So he stays, fiddling with his phone for a while and fighting the impulse to snap a pic of Theon sleeping with his hair all tousled and his mouth hanging open. He looks like a rather sexy moron.

Finally Jon gets bored enough to throw Theon a last glance before getting up as silently as possible. He pulls his pants on and tiptoes out of the living room. His first station is the bathroom where he - guiltily - opens one drawer after the other, surprised when he finds all of them stuffed to the brim with tiny hotel toiletries.

He chooses one of them, a fancy looking bottle with stylized flowers painted on it, along with some asian ideographs. Jon opens it carefully, sniffing it, and smiles in surprise. It smells amazing, and without hesitating any longer he slips out of his pants and into the shower.

When he’s done, after a lot of cursing at the lack of hair foam, a round brush and a proper hair dryer, Jon wraps one of Theon’s astonishingly fluffy towels around his waist. A quick look into the living room confirms that Theon is still soundly asleep, so Jon continues into the kitchen.

It’s… spartan. And _tiny._ There’s a fridge, a couple of cupboards, a hot plate and a microwave. No kettle, in none of the cupboards and drawers Jon looks, no tea - just an already opened plastic bottle of instant coffee powder Jon immediately puts back with a snort of disgust.

“Anything the matter?”

Jon swivels around to Theon sleepily stumbling into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

Jon huffs. “Do you have any real coffee? A Nespresso machine? A kettle? _Anything?”_

“Right there.” Theon shoulders past Jon, opening the cupboard Jon has just closed, taking out the nasty powder. “See? You just put three spoonfuls into a cup with hot water. You can heat it in the microwave.” Theon pauses, leaning forward and sniffing at Jon’s neck. “Cherry Blossom?”

“Maybe?” Jon shrugs, not having the heart to ask about real coffee again. Not with Theon so close. “I took one of those little hotel bottles…” He looks at Theon hesitantly, biting his lip. “I hope that’s okay?”

Theon looks stunned for a moment, then seems to shake himself. “It’s alright. That’s what they’re for. My sister sends them to me from wherever she stays on her trips. I think you got one of the Japanese lotions.”

“Sorry,” Jon mumbles. Theon clearly is not comfortable. “I should’ve asked.”

“Nah, seriously. It’s okay. Don’t worry.” Theon grins sheepishly. “I guess I’m just not used to someone staying over after… you know.” He wags his eyebrows suggestively. “I guess we can scratch that never meeting alone again, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Jon mutters, placing his palm lightly on Theon’s naked chest. He lets his fingertips stroke over the golden fuzz of hair there, barely visible and soft to the touch. “It is fucked up and we are horrible and if Robb ever finds out he will - mmph!!”

Jon nearly suffocates when Theon kisses him without any warning, pressing him against the counter with a very insistent hard-on. “Think you can bear to stay for another round before you go home?” Theon asks, slightly out of breath. “Even without coffee?” He cups Jon’s arse through his boxershorts and kisses him again. “I have to admit this having you stay after a fuck has its perks.”

“Coffee is overrated,” Jon hears himself say, and in that moment he very nearly believes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, at least they stopped trying to quit, right?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange days at the moment. At least the story is going the way I want it to

Turns out, coffee isn’t overrated. In fact, coffee is very important, and Jon insists on Theon coming to his place the next time they meet. After Jon had fucked Theon into oblivion they’d finally laid down some basic rules about their thing, as soon as Theon, who’d fallen asleep again, to Jon’s equal amusement and annoyance, had woken up. 

Rule number one, each can text the other for a booty-call whenever they feel like it. Rule number two, no one is obliged to comply when they don’t feel like it, and the other one can’t be mad. Rule number three, they’re both getting a health check to stop wasting valuable fucking time and money on condoms. Rule number four, as long as they’re doing it, there are no others. Rule number five, Robb mustn't know. 

Jon is fine with those rules, especially the one about no other people. Not that he ever intended to have someone else on the side anyway - this is so not his style and it’s crazy enough as it is already - but he has to admit that it is a relief that Theon won’t be fucking around either. Jon is more of a jealous type, even with casual fuck buddies it seems. 

So when Theon calls him a couple of days after their last encounter, Jon invites him over to his flat. It’s not big, but cosy and warm and there’s  _ coffee.  _ And Jon’s hair dryer. And no pit traps like Japanese hotel toiletries. Or not knowing what to do when Theon collapses into a coma right after coming.  

After they have thoroughly defiled Jon’s bed (facing Jon with the problem of needing fresh sheets, what with lube and jizz smeared all over them) he doesn’t linger too long watching Theon snoozing, maybe half an hour max, really, and goes to do something useful. Like, drinking perfect, fragrant Brazilian roast. 

Or sitting in the living room, pretending to read the book he should have finished ages ago, but somehow the cheap, trashy thing has lost its appeal. Even the sex scenes are boring as fuck. Finally Jon gives up with a sigh, hiding the book under the couch and tottering back into his bedroom, where Theon is now lying on his back and snoring like a rhino. 

Jon shakes his head at himself as he settles in next to him, carefully nudging him over until he’s lying on his side. It… really shouldn’t be that endearing. And yet it is, and Jon catches himself staring at Theon again like a massive creep. 

“Stop that,” comes Theon’s drowsy voice from the depths of the pillow, nearly sending Jon out of his skin. “I know I’m gorgeous when I drool in my sleep but I’d rather you did something useful.”

_ Useful?? _

“Like, put your pretty mouth to good use,” Theon elaborates.

“Bite me,” Jon huffs, indignant, and Theon chuckles and finally rolls over to blink at Jon. His eyes are glittering and he smiles, an enticing, dark smile. 

“Where?” he asks, moving one hand teasingly over Jon’s chest, his fingers grazing Jon’s throat. 

Well, okay, that’s definitely not what Jon meant, but seeing as Theon is offering… “Everywhere,” Jon whispers. 

The next thing he knows he’s flat on his back, Theon hovering over him with that grin on his face that Jon remembers from their first meeting at the club. His chest tightens in anticipation as Theon lowers his head, gasping as he softly kisses Jon’s collarbone. 

And then he screams, when Theon’s teeth dig into him hard, when Theon sucks on the spot so greedily Jon thinks his skin will tear with the force. It’s painful, and Jon’s dick twitches against Theon’s belly as Theon releases him only to move to a spot a little lower, below Jon’s nipple. 

Slowly Theon makes his way down Jon’s torso, alternating between kissing and biting and sucking until Jon’s head is swimming with pleasure and pain, the two sensations overriding each other and melting together until they’re indiscernible. 

Now Theon’s mouth is inches from Jon’s straining dick, he’s nibbling at Jon’s navel when suddenly a noise interrupts Jon’s gasps and moans. Theon stills. Jon freezes. Silence settles over the room. Then Theon snorts, burying his head in Jon’s belly, softly chuckling against his skin. 

“Are you that hungry, Snow?” he finally asks when he resurfaces, red-faced and smirking. “That sounded like an angry wolf.”

Jon wants to die. If possible, right now. 

“Oh come on,” Theon huffs as he scrambles to his feet. “Your stomach growls and you act like you’ve fa--”

“Don’t say it,” Jon mutters, horrified. “Don’t even  _ think _ it.”

“Alright, alright.” Theon looks down at Jon, arms crossed over his chest. “But I’ll have you know that we’re both male humans and something  _ will _ happen someday. No use freaking out over a growling stomach, man.”

And with that he turns and walks out of Jon’s bedroom, stark naked and shaking his head. Jon fleetingly wonders where he’s going, but then it doesn’t really matter. The mood is as dead as can be now anyway, so it’s a good thing he’s alone for now to wallow in his misery a little. Jon turns on his side and closes his eyes. 

***

“You’re bloody waking up  _ right now _ , Mister!”

Jon blinks at the accusing voice in his ear, then blinks again when his gaze falls on a plate right next to his face on the pillow. A huge sandwich is sitting on the plate, dripping with mayonnaise and melted cheese. Quickly Jon sits up, turning his disbelieving gaze on Theon, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed with a plate of his own in his lap. He’s wearing a pair of Jon’s pants. 

Food. Theon’s made food. For Jon. In bed. They’re going to eat food in bed. Crumbs. He’ll be sleeping on crumbs tonight. Jon’s head is still fuzzy from his unplanned nap, and slowly he registers the full scale of what has happened. He’s been hungry, and Theon has made him food. 

“Thanks?” he says, unsure, slowly reaching for his plate. Oh god, Theon has been in his kitchen. Jon suppresses a shiver, trying very hard not to think of the state the kitchen might be in now. Instead he takes a careful bite of the still warm sandwich - and moans in surprise and appreciation. 

“Good?” Theon asks, already stuffing the last piece of his own sandwich into his mouth. 

Jon nods enthusiastically, then swallows. “Amazing!” he exclaims truthfully before taking another bite, trying not to cringe when a crumb falls next to him onto the sheet. “I didn’t even know I had mayonnaise in the fridge.”

“You didn’t” Theon says, proceeding to lick his fingers, one after the other, until Jon starts to feel hot and restless again. “You did have all the necessary stuff though.”

“Yeah,” Jon says, distracted by Theon’s tongue flitting out to lick up a drop of mayonnaise from the corner of his mouth. Then he hesitates. “Wait, what? Are you telling me you  _ made _ this mayonnaise?”

“Why so surprised?” Theon asks, finally leaving his tongue in his mouth where it belongs. “Didn’t think I can cook?”

Jon only shakes his head while wolfing down the rest of his sandwich. It’s delicious, and astonishing, and just what he needed, and Theon has made mayonnaise in his kitchen. Something thick wells up in Jon’s chest and he swallows. 

“Glad you liked it,” Theon says now, then sighs. “I should get going, I have to get up early tomorrow.” He smirks. “I think I’ve said that sentence a hundred times before, only now I  _ really _ have to get up early tomorrow.”

Jon doesn’t ask what he’ll be doing, it’s none of his business, really, and this way he can at least clean his kitchen in peace. He eyes a grease stain on his cover where Theon is sitting. And change the sheets.

“See you soon,” Theon says, and smiles his handsome smile. 

Jon’s brain promptly blacks out, he lunges forward and rips Theon down with him, plates sliding from the bed to the carpet with a dull thud that Jon doesn’t hear as he’s claiming Theon’s mouth, groaning needily. 

“Twenty minutes,” he gasps, fumbling with Theon’s - his own - pants, then kissing him again before sliding down. His kitchen be damned, crumbs be damned. Jon licks his lips, wrapping a hand around Theon’s half-hard dick. “I am going to put my mouth to good use.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything you want to see? Like, scenes/stuff the boys should do? Just curious what you think :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I doubt that the commenter from last chapter is still among us, if you do come back to read more of what you not like, I have something for you:
> 
> Jon burps while scratching his balls, then smacks Theon's butt. "Food," he grunts and spits into a corner, then watches Theon make his way through the dirty room. "By the way, I totally hate you."
> 
> Theon looks confused. "But you... you don't even know me in this _alternative universe_!"
> 
> Jon shrugs, ignoring him while watching the sports news.

“Sooo…” Robb leans forward. “What’s new, what’s fresh? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“It hasn’t even been two weeks,” Jon protests, spearing a piece of steak onto his fork. “And it’s been you who cancelled this week’s movie night because you were busy getting into Roslin Frey’s panties.”

Not that Jon is complaining. He’s spent movie night sucking Theon’s dick in all possible manners, and receiving the same treatment in return. Jon blushes at a particular memory, involving an earth shattering orgasm and the number sixty-nine. 

“Yes, I know, I’m sorry.” Robb looks like the picture of contrite guilt, and Jon has to grin. 

“Did you at least get in?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Robb informs him, all dignified. “Or get a blowjob and tell.”

Jon rolls his eyes and turns his attention to his baked potato. It must’ve come from some radioactive place, it’s as large as a football. While he’s still occupied with tearing it apart and listening to Robb’s rapturous gushing, Jon’s phone vibrates in his pocket and he quickly lays it on his thigh under the table. 

**Bonobo69:** What are you doing?

Throwing Robb, still lost in his tales of love and lust, a quick glance, Jon types back. 

**Jon:** Steak night with Robb

**Bonobo69:** Aw shoot. I felt like eating your ass tonight but steak sounds good as well

Jon blushes up to his ears, unable to contain the enthusiastic leap his dick takes in his jeans. He sighs a little, and Robb nods in agreement. 

“Yes, I know. But can’t do anything about it. And if I have to take  _ all _ her sisters with us to the cinema I’d do it, anything to get in old Walder’s good books”

Jon’s phone vibrates again, much too close to his straining dick. 

**Bonobo69:** Why wasn’t I invited?

Jon frowns at his phone. 

**Jon:** You know perfectly well why not

**Bonobo69:** Because I’d be massaging your dick with my foot right now?

**Jon:** Precisely.

“...dessert?”

“What?” Jon looks up at Robb guiltily, but fortunately he’s got his head buried behind the huge menu. “Oh, dessert. Nah, I think I’m good.”

“Pity Theon isn’t here.” Robb looks up over the top of the menu, brows knitted, gaze reproachful. “I know you keep saying you didn’t get along last time, but he’ll be pissed to know we’re at a place without him that has a cherry cobbler. It’s his favourite.”

Oh? Jon doesn’t answer, but when Robb orders a strawberry cheesecake, Jon asks for a cherry cobbler. To go. He checks his phone again, typing a quick message. 

**Jon:** I’ll be home in about one hour - wanna come over then? 

**Bonobo69:** Hahaha made you hungry for dessert huh?

Jon snaps his phone shut. 

***

Jon hastens his steps, cursing the rain, the heavy, impractical brolly, and his own stupidity. It’s two hours past the time he told Theon he’d be home. He sure as hell has long fucked off back to the land of hotel toiletries and instant coffee powder. 

But when he arrives at his flat building, a dripping shadow descends on him from the building entrance. 

“It’s eleven pm, Snow,” Theon hisses, wrapping his arms around himself. “Where the fuck have you been? You said you’d be here  _ hours  _ ago!”

Jon is torn between being exceedingly puzzled because Theon is still waiting, a surge of joy because, again, Theon is still waiting, and a tremendous amount of guilt. Oh, and of course the immediate desire to attack Theon’s rain-streaked face. 

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He tries to hold the brolly out over Theon, but he steps back, clearly still fuming. “Robb dragged me to a bar where I had to meet Roslin and about nine of her sisters. I didn’t want to go, I swear.”

Now he reaches out and, amazingly, Theon doesn’t flinch back again. His skin is ice cold and wet, but Jon still pulls him into a kiss. For a moment Theon allows it, then he shivers. 

“Couldn’t you have called or texted?”

“No battery,” Jon says, holding out his dead cell as proof. “I was getting so desperate I thought about texting you from Robb’s phone, but. You know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Theon grumbles. “What I don’t know is why we’re still out here in the pissing cold when we could already be in bed. Eating dessert.” 

He wiggles his eyebrows and finally grins, and Jon is so relieved he’s forgiven he can hardly grin back. He gives the brolly to Theon to hold until he’s found his keys, and in minutes they’re standing in Jon’s hallway where the brolly and Theon drip merrily all over the floor. 

“Bathroom,” he says, and Theon immediately starts stripping at world record speed. 

“Going to take a shower with me?” he drawls. “There’s a good boy, all eager for what I promised earlier.”

Jon smirks, amused, then lets his gaze wander over Theon’s willowy body. It still hasn’t lost any of its intense attraction, smooth and lean and pale, ready to be littered with purple marks that claim it to be Jon’s. But although his dick has started to fill with blood the moment he’d seen Theon outside, and is now rock hard, this time reason wins out. 

“You shower,” Jon says, ignoring Theon’s puzzled look. “Can’t fuck you senseless when you catch hypothermia. So be a good boy, as you’re so fond of calling me, and afterwards,” he lifts the plastic bag from the steak house, “we’ll have dessert.”

Throwing him another confused glance, Theon marches into the bathroom. Jon smiles to himself while undressing as well, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a soft jumper from his bedroom before going back into the kitchen, where he warms up the cobbler in the microwave. 

Theon emerges just as the microwave beeps. His hair is damp and wavy, not resembling a drowned rat anymore, and he’s wearing Jon’s bathrobe. 

“Can I wear this?” he asks as he comes over and lays his hands on Jon’s hips, nosing into his hair. “It smells like you.”

“In a good way I hope,” Jon answers and winds himself around so he can reach the microwave and a plate. Instantly, Theon is plastered to his back, mouthing at his neck. 

“In a way that makes me want to do it here and now,” he purrs, letting his warm hands wander into Jon’s pants and cup his arse. “I really cannot wait a second--” He pauses, then looks up and sniffs. “Wait. Is that..?”

Triumphant, Jon turns back to face Theon, holding out the plate like a sacrifice.

“Cherry cobbler!” Theon exclaims, immediately grabbing the plate greedily. “How did you..? Who told you..?”

“Robb, of course,” Jon tells him, watching smugly as Theon bites into the warm cobbler, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. So much about ‘can’t wait a second’. “He mentioned this one’s your favourite.”

“Totally is,” Theon munches, mouth full and cherry smeared over his bottom lip. He swallows, his smile now brilliant. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Your sin of being late is now universally forgiven!”

“I’ll remember that,” Jon mumbles and then he can’t resist any longer and leans in to lick the cherry from Theon’s mouth. 

It’s good to know what gets him back in Theon’s good books. With Ygritte it had been astonishingly hard. He’d tried fancy chocolate, which she had thrown after him, and a flower bouquet, which she had whacked him over the head with. It had been Tormund who’d told Jon that Ygritte had a weakness for pretty underwear. On men. That had done the trick. 

Theon tastes like cherries, sugary and sweet, and he kisses back eagerly, rubbing his whole, robe-clad body along Jon’s to the point where Jon can’t breathe properly anymore. They stumble out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, lips locked, hands touching, until Jon lets himself fall backwards on the bed. Theon is on him in a flash, kissing down his stomach while removing Jon’s pants. 

Jon’s cock springs free, and Theon exhales with a moan. “Can’t ever get enough of that,” he mumbles and noses at the head, giving little licks to the slit until Jon sees stars. “Jon Snow’s magic dick… as if you hexed me into addiction somehow…”

Jon sits up, removing his shirt and Theon’s robe, then lays down again, pulling Theon with him and into a long kiss. “I want you to ride me,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “I want to see you come undone on my magic dick.”

And somehow, miraculously, it doesn’t sound half as bad as it had in Jon’s head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I'm sorry for that note at the beginning, I just couldn't help myself *sigh* 
> 
> And in this chapter I even hint at Jon wearing lingerie for Ygritte! Oh noes! XD
> 
> A big thank you to all of you who read and like and take your time to leave me a comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope y'all are having a good Sunday :)
> 
> Here's some angst, and a lot of sap, because it's cold outside and I could do with some greysnow sap to warm my heart XD

Jon stares at his phone. It’s been four days since the last time, and strangely enough Jon is feeling restless and incredibly horny. This definitely isn’t normal for him, usually he can go infinite lengths without sex. Between Ygritte and Satin had been a year, and between Satin and Theon… Well, better not even think about it. (Jon is astonished he still knew where to put it, honestly.)

He sighs. This really is harder than he thought. There’s a board discussion at his school tomorrow with the children’s parents, concerning the school’s next language trip, and as Nature Studies teacher Jon doesn’t go on those. So he’s got the day off - and somehow his mind has set on spending the day with Theon. 

Which isn’t something they do. And since so far Theon has been initiating all contact, Jon has no idea how to go about this. He’s been staring at his phone for a good hour now, wasting his lunch break and free hour afterwards. He’s typed a good dozen messages in his head, and doffed them immediately. 

_ I’ve been thinking about you.  _

_ I want to see you. _

_ Can we please spend the day together because I’m horny and needy and an idiot? _

No, just no. Jon shakes his head. That all sounds way too much like he wants them to be lovers or something like that. Spending a whole day together is something entirely different than just sex and Jon is very sure that this isn’t covered by their rules. Theon isn’t his boyfriend. He’s not even really his friend. In the end he settles on what he knows. 

**Jon:** Are you free tomorrow? I have the day off and thought I’d spend it making you come until you pass out. 

And then he waits. 

One hour. Two. Afternoon classes stretch into an eternity, and Jon is sure he’s never in his life been that focused on his left buttcheek, where the phone is sitting - unvibrating and gratingly silent - in his back pocket. The students have caught on to Jon’s distracted mind and are getting rowdy, when finally the last bell rings and school is over for the day. 

All evening the phone stays silent, and when Jon finally goes to bed - way too late - he’s equally pissed and anxious. This wonderful mix, combined with thoughts of the last time, make it impossible to go to sleep. Jon rolls on his back and grips his hard dick. 

How Theon had looked, moving slowly above him, his lithe body taught and leaned back as he’d glided up and down on Jon’s dick, his chest glowing with sweat, his nipples hard and round and peaked, his damp hair sticking to his forehead in thick locks, his eyes closed, lips opened…

Jon comes over his fist with a groan. Damn, he needs it real bad. Needs Theon real bad, which obviously is not gonna happen, because when Jon checks his phone there’s still nothing and more nothing. Angry with himself he goes to wash his hands, then back to bed where he finally falls into an uneasy sleep. 

***

Jon wakes up with a jolt, sweating and - damn this - hard  _ again _ . He throws his alarm clock a weary glance. Six am. Way too early to wake up on a day off. But now that he’s up, Jon has to pee, and on his way to the bathroom he grabs his phone and - a message. A new message. 

**CherryLover:** Sorry. Can’t. 

And that’s all. No explanation, nothing.

Jon can’t believe it. That is all he gets for an answer? To his incredibly sexy message? To his wonderful offer to spend the day together? Oh. Jon freezes, slowly setting his phone down. That’s it, isn’t it? The prospect of spending a whole day together. He knew that would be too much, and he was right. 

Cursing under his breath, Jon stalks to take a shower, but instead of calming him down it only makes him more restless. Same with coffee, and his weekday breakfast of porridge. Not even the raspberries he’s put in taste good, and the half-eaten bowl lands in the sink. Jon doesn’t have the nerve to wash it now.

He tries to occupy himself, to no avail. That’s one of the shit things about having off on a weekday. Everyone else is at work, no one has time to hang out. Jon snorts. As far as he knows Theon doesn’t have a nine to five, as far as Jon knows he does nothing. Robb has mentioned something about an inheritance. 

After starting - and impatiently pausing - three different movies, Jon has had it. He sure as hell is not going to wallow in misery on his bloody day off, he’s going to enjoy it. And enjoying it meant - pre-Theon, at least - going for a long walk, maybe looking for a new book at the thrift store, and then enjoying his newest find with a huge cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows, whipped cream and a flake. 

***

Two hours later Jon is on his way home, without a new book, and no marshmallows, but at least he’s got his favourite brand of chocolate powder and a pack of 99 flakes. Slowly he trudges round the corner into his street, hugging his coat tightly around himself. It is fricking cold, the wind is icy and the hot chocolate is more than deserved. 

“Where the f-fuck have you b-been? I thought y-you have the d-day off!”

Jon looks up at the accusing stutter, his gaze falling on Theon, again waiting for him in front of his building. He’s not wet this time, but shivering like a chihuahua. His lips are blue and he’s staring at Jon with obvious displeasure. Jon can’t believe it. 

“I thought you can’t come over today,” he says, wincing at how miffed his voice sounds.

“Changed my m-mind,” Theon jabbers, “but I th-think I should g-go home again. Valuable p-parts have frostbite.” He grins. “I wanted to see you.”

What the fuck. What the actual fuck! With one step Jon has his arms around Theon and their cold lips meet as he crowds him against the wall. Cold and wind forgotten, Jon can’t believe how hot he’s burning all of a sudden, just from a few words, just from one single kiss. 

Theon shivers even more under Jon’s touches, but his mouth opens immediately, hot, wet, amazing, and all the anxiousness in Jon melts away, this feels so good, he could--

“Get a room,” a grumpy voice interrupts his blissful state. Jon looks up, gasping, into Mrs. Tyrell’s pinched-up face. She’s his next door neighbour, and normally she’s alright. Now she’s clearly pissed. “Guess I’ll have to find my headphones if your  _ friend _ is here again, Mr. Snow. Going at it like baboons,” she mutters, unlocking the door and staring at Jon expectantly. “In you go, young man, before you catch your death.”

Sheepishly, Jon slinks inside, pulling Theon with him. He wishes Mrs. Tyrell a nice day, dutifully echoed by Theon, and receives a harrumphing sound in return before she smashes her door closed and they’re alone again, not looking at each other.

“Take me inside,” Theon says finally, letting one hand slide into Jon’s hair. “And fuck me like a baboon.”

***

Jon has no idea how baboons fuck, but it can’t be even half as good as having Theon on all fours in front of him, crying out everytime Jon thrusts into him. It is hard, fast, all the need that has been building in the last days, all the fretting he’s done yesterday dissolving in the heat of Theon’s body and in the taste of his skin when Jon rips him up and against his chest, mouthing at his damp neck.

“Glad you changed your mind,” he breathes, grinding hard into Theon and making him moan. “I thought I’d lose mine.”

“Yes,” Theon gasps, rocking down desperately, “couldn’t get it out of my head. Needed… this… you…”

Jon winds a hand around Theon’s body, dragging his fingers down his heaving stomach to wrap them around Theon’s dripping dick. Theon cries out, tilting his head, and Jon swallows the sound with his mouth as Theon comes in long, white ropes over Jon’s hand. Jon hisses, sliding his lips to the point where Theon’s neck meets his shoulder, and bites down hard. 

Theon screams, a raw, naked sound, and it pushes Jon over the edge. He holds on to Theon tightly, feeling his dick pulsating in him, filling him up, draining Jon of all energy. He lets himself fall sideways, pulling Theon with him. He turns in Jon’s arms, pressing his sweaty forehead against Jon’s. 

“Seems I made the right decision.” He already sounds sleepy, and suddenly Jon is filled by a strangely intimate feeling. Something like fondness, he thinks, and kisses Theon’s lips softly. “Wake me in an hour,” Theon mumbles, eyes falling shut. “Got stuff to do.”

Jon waits for another moment, then carefully shimmies out of bed, pulling the covers over Theon. One hour. That should be enough time. As silently as possible, Jon dresses and leaves the flat. He’s got stuff to do too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next haven't exactly been planned. It looks really like there's going to be more chapters than I thought. And more sap.
> 
> Edit to say:
> 
> Troll came back and left a lengthy comment how none of you had obviously read the books lol  
> And other irrelevant things I won't mention here bc boring and untrue. 
> 
> BUT then troll had to personally attack one of my dearest friends, so their comment got deleted, as will every one by them from now on. 
> 
> I don't get why this vendetta against her, just fucking leave people alone, but you will NOT use my fics as a platform. Fuck you^^


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lalala, another sappy chapter, just because I can ^^

“Wake up. It’s been an hour.” Jon gently rattles Theon’s shoulder, waiting for him to blink sleepily. “Hot chocolate?” he asks, pointing at the mug he’s set on the bedside table.

Theon’s hand comes out from under the covers, but instead of reaching for the mug he fists it into Jon’s jumper and pulls him down into a slow kiss.

“Thank you,” he yawns, then stretches. “I fear I really have stuff to do now, Snow. Actually I should have been doing stuff all day, which is why I told you I can’t. But, you know… the siren call of your dick has been too strong I guess.” Theon grins, nipping at his chocolate, then makes a loud, appreciate moaning sound. “Okay, it was totally the right decision to come here.”

“What do you have to do?” Jon asks, trying not to reach out and let his fingers stroke Theon’s naked chest. “You never said.”

“Ha.” Does Theon look embarrassed? “I didn’t plan on telling you, but if I want to do it here - and use my breaks for more incredible sex - then I guess I have to tell you. Don’t laugh, okay?” Theon takes a deep breath. “I write scripts for a Dornish telenovela. Sand Storms of Love?”

Jon gapes at him, incredulous. What the… He’s heard of the show, it’s a huge favourite among his middle-ages colleagues, especially the female ones. They often spend whole lunch breaks talking about nothing else but the newest ridiculous plot twist. And _Theon_ writes those plot twists?

“Oh my god,” Jon says. “You killed Damon, didn’t you. Poor Jandra from work was in tears for a week.”

“No, actually Bronn killed Damon,” Theon says, apparently relieved Jon isn’t laughing. “He’s one of the other two writing scripts for the show. The third is a Dornish girl, Tyene. She’s making sure we don’t write too much shit about her homeplace.”

Jon shakes his head. “So you want to write your script… here?”

“If that’s okay with you?” Theon shrugs. “I’m in the middle of a dramatic reveal - can’t tell you what - and then I’ll do a steamy sex scene. Could use some inspiration for that.” He winks, pulling Jon in again. “You could suck my dick later and then I’ll write it down.”

So that’s what they do. They migrate into the living room with their mugs and Theon’s tablet. Jon tries to read a thick volume about mitosis - mind-numbingly boring, and he’s totally distracted by Theon, donning a pair of reading glasses with a sheepish glance in Jon’s direction. He looks sexy as fuck, especially when he sinks into his work, typing furiously and muttering under his breath.

After about one hour Theon sighs and puts his glasses down. “Time for a break. I just delivered a baby whose father is not who it should be. Next up: a very dirty blowjob. Want to give me some inspiration?”

Jon doesn’t answer, he just shoves his book away and gets up to wander over to where Theon is sitting at the couch table. He’s ready to get onto his knees when, to Jon’s surprise, Theon shakes his head.

“No. You made me hot chocolate. I’m going to suck _you_ off.”

“No objections,” Jon mumbles, eyes fixed on Theon as he glides off of the couch, kneeling on the carpet between Jon’s legs. Damn, if this isn’t an amazing sight, Theon on his knees, his hands deftly opening Jon’s trousers and pulling out his half-hard dick.

And double-damn, the sight gets even better when Theon closes his eyes and licks a long, wet stripe along the length of Jon’s shaft, his eyelashes fluttering as he slowly takes him in deeper and deeper. Jon can feel his dick swelling to full hardness in Theon’s hot mouth, his wet tongue circling the head skillfully, drawing a low moan out of Jon.

Theon is good. He makes all those tiny noises, as if he’s getting off on this as much as Jon, he licks and sucks, wet and lewd, one of his hands circling Jon’s dick while fondling his balls with the other one. A flood of sensations pulses through Jon, his toes curl and his balls draw tight, he buries his hands in Theon’s hair and comes in long gushes in his welcoming mouth.

“Hmmm…” Theon licks his lips, making Jon’s spent dick jump a little. “Mind if I have a fag before you return the favour?”

Jon weakly shakes his head, trying to catch his breath. “Go ahead. Since when do you smoke?”

“I normally do when I write,” Theon replies, patting his pockets until he produces a pack of cigarettes and a zippo. “Packets after packets. Didn’t want to smoke up your place though. You’re pretty neat,” he sticks a fag between his lips, grinning, “and I thought you would object.”

“Nah,” Jon shrugs. “Many of my friends smoke. I don’t mind.” He leans forward when Theon starts to fumble on the floor with a frown. “What are you doing down there? Won’t you rather sit on the couch?”

“I like the view.” Theon eyes Jon’s dick with a speculative look. “I dropped my zippo. Wait a sec, I think I got it… Oh, what’s that?”

Jon watches in horror as Theon pulls something from under the couch. He’s frozen to the spot - this is inevitable. Oh god. Could someone _please_ kill him right fucking now??

“Lost in the Highlander’s arms,” Theon reads, his tone disbelieving. “Snow, is that… oh my god.” He giggles. “This is trashy soft porn, Jon!” The book flips open at an often-read page, and Theon starts reading out loud with gusto.

“Angus dipped his tongue deep in her velvety folds, softly licking over the tiny nub. Marguerite moaned lewdly as her orgasm started to build. She clutched at Angus’ wild, long hair, purring in pleasure as his fingers started to glide in and out of her wet lust channel…”

Jon groans, pressing a cushion against his burning face. He can’t believe this is happening. He’s sitting in his couch, his traitorous dick is still on show and getting hard again, and Theon is, interrupted by giggles and comments, reading him trash novels.

“Marguerite mewled wantonly as Angus finally sheathed himself in her tight love tunnel, his enormous, glorious erection filling her entirely. He rode her wild and hard, setting her whole body on fire with his lustful moans….”

“Please stop,” Jon groans.

“This is gold…” Theon slaps Jon’s naked thigh. Oh, it gets better… Marguerite’s soul trembled with delight when her lover spilled his huge load inside her, she threw her head back and cried out as her orgasm overtook every breath in her body…” Theon snorts. “Why do you never make my soul tremble, Snow?”

“Because you don’t have one,” Jon mutters, not sure if he’s about to laugh or cry. “Stop torturing me and burn this fucking thing.”

“No way.” Theon lofts the cushion away from Jon’s face, smirking at him merrily. “I’m going to borrow it. Gave me a lot of ideas for the sex scene in the script. But first…” He gets up and shimmies out of his pants, and Jon gasps. Theon is rock hard. “First we’ll try to make our souls tremble.”

And with that he straddles Jon’s lap.

***

“Thank you for the lovely day,” Theon says courteously when Jon brings him to the door. “And for the chocolate and the pizza and the three orgasms… and for my new favourite reading material.”

He grins and waves the book. Jon smacks him over the head. Apart from this highly embarrassing thing, the day had been wonderful, but Jon is still nervous about what he’s about to do. 

“I have something for you,” he says quietly, unsure how it will go down. “Don’t read anything into it, it’s just… I don’t want you to freeze to death, should you decide to wait in front of my door again.” Jon reaches into his pocket, drawing out a keyring with a toy monkey on it. “The bronze one is for the entrance door, the silver one for my flat.”

“Wow.” Theon, face blank, slowly takes the keys, weighing them in his hand. “A baboon, huh? Thanks.” His taught mouth slowly stretches into a grin. “I swear I won’t hold parties in here when you’re not home.”

“I’d rather you don’t,” Jon says, immensely relieved when Theon pockets the keys. “But… you know. You’re welcome to work or make mayonnaise anytime you want in here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're heading into dangerous territory, guys. It might be even *gasp* something _more_
> 
> I made an addition to this chapter - it seemed to fit better here than at the start of the next one!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROMANCE GUYS!!!  
> sorry XD

The moment Jon opens the door to his flat he wants to groan with frustration. The lights are on, noise from the TV is coming out of the living room - someone is already here, someone is waiting for him and going to demand attention and conversation and being entertained. 

Jon sighs as he toes off his shoes, hanging up his jacket. He’s so fucking tired… and not in the mood to focus on another person, he just wants to put up his feet, order some food and watch TV until he falls asleep in front of it. 

“Hey.”

Jon looks up in surprise at the voice coming from the living room doorway. Theon is leaning against it, hands buried in his pockets, giving Jon a wide grin. Jon doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry at the sight. 

Somehow this is simultaneously a lot better than Robb waiting for him, or Arya, the only other people who have the keys to his flat - both constantly chatting, and as much as Jon loves them he just couldn’t bear that today - and it’s a lot worse. At least his cousins don’t expect him to bring up the energy to fuck them around the flat. 

Theon on the other hand is probably expecting exactly that. That’s what they are after all. Fuck buddies. They don’t just hang out, except that one amazing day. And while Jon really loves fucking Theon in every position imaginable - the thought of having to do it after the long, stressful day he’s had is crushing. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I am here,” Theon says now, “Since you gave me the keys last month and… I just thought we could… you know…” He grins sheepishly‍, and Jon wants to scream. 

He doesn’t, instead stumbling over and letting Theon pull him into a long, demanding kiss that Jon tries his best to return with all the enthusiasm he can scratch up. It’s obviously not enough, for Theon pulls back to study Jon’s face. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jon mumbles, “just tired, sorry.”

“Oh. Okay.” Theon looks disappointed. “If you want I can leave, give you some rest. I just… nevermind. Should have texted you instead of just coming here.”

“No, it’s alright,” Jon says, suppressing a yawn. “I don’t mind you being here.” Which is only half a lie, really. The prospect of having Theon around isn’t that bad, if there wasn’t the threat of sex hanging over Jon’s head like a very unstable Damocles’ sword. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” Theon’s voice is zealously bright now, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as Jon. “Hey, we could watch TV and just, I dunno, do nothing?”

Jon wonders at that offer. If not for sex, why would Theon want to stay? But the thought is nice, to just be around him, to just  _ be _ with him for once. He nods, reaching out to let his hand stroke over Theon’s arm. Theon smiles. 

“Anything specific you want to watch?” he asks, backing into the living room and sitting down on the couch. “Come here,” he says, patting the space beside him, and Jon rolls his eyes while walking over. It’s his bloody flat after all. 

Theon lazily zaps through Netflix, lingering on a David-Attenborough-documentary for a second before coming up with Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, while Jon is ordering them some Chinese food. It arrives halfway through the film, when Jon can barely keep his eyes open anymore. 

“Man,” Theon says ten minutes later, “your Chinese guy beats my Chinese guy by miles.”

He continues nibbling on a mini spring roll in a way that should be illegal, but sadly Jon is way too knackered to appreciate it. On the other hand, he’s also too tired to mind that Theon keeps talking between bites. Well, it’s not as if he lives with Theon, or is going to eat with him regularly, so what the heck. Or maybe it only annoys him when other people do it.

“I wish I was Indy,” Theon says now, “only without the whip. I’d rather have a crossbow or something like that. You think I’d look good with that hat?”

“Sure,” Jon utters, trying hard not to fall asleep with a tempura prawn in his mouth. “You’d look very dashing and sexy.”

After that they settle on the first Godfather movie, something both have seen a thousand times. Jon leans back into the cushions, Theon’s body a warm, steady presence at his side. He closes his eyes, letting the familiar dialogue wash over him, smirking everytime Theon unconsciously murmurs the lines along. 

This does feel nice, comfortable and homey, and a lot easier than he thought it would be. Not having sex with Theon, that is. They could probably do this again sometime, maybe even…

“You have to answer for Santino, Carlo. You fingered Sonny for the Barzini people,” Theon mutters under his breath, and without opening his eyes Jon turns his torso and shifts until he’s draped over Theon’s side, head on his shoulder, arm snaking around his belly. 

“Mike, you got it all wrong,” he answers along with Gianni Russo, and feels Theon’s body vibrating as he chuckles. “This dialogue is crazy,” Jon continues, “I mean, it’s a classic but still…”

Theon doesn’t answer, just raises his arm to tuck Jon snugly against his side. As Carlo meets his fate, Jon’s thoughts start to tangle, mobsters and work and everything fading into the background, leaving only the warmth of Theon beneath him. 

***

“Jon? Hey, Jon.”

Jon grumbles crossly. He’s warm and comfortable and has absolutely zero intention of waking up. 

“Jon, I’m going to go now. Don’t you think you should go to bed? I mean, this couch is very nice and all, but I’m sure you’ll sleep better in your bed.”

“Sheets are dirty,” Jon mumbles, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. He’s sure as hell not telling Theon that he hasn’t changed them after his last visit because they smell like him. “‘M okay here.”

A sigh sounds somewhere above him, then a pair of hands move under Jon’s arms and he’s dragged to his feet where he sways for a moment before finally opening one eye and glancing at Theon reproachfully. 

“Man, you’re a piece of work, huh? Come on, lazy pants.” Theon proceeds to half-drag, half-shove Jon into his bedroom, where he undresses him quick and efficient. When he comes to Jon’s pants he hesitates, then chuckles. “Better leave them on you or I may have to really wake you up for a quick romp in those dirty sheets.”

“Can I sleep through it?” Jon mutters, flopping down on his bed and closing his eyes again. He yawns. “Or you could just stay and I romp you in the morning.”

No answer, but after a long moment Jon can hear a low rustle of clothes being pulled off before he feels the bed dipping behind him. 

“I never stay over at someone’s place after a fuck,” he hears Theon say behind him, something weird in his voice.

“Yeah,” Jon says, already slipping into unconsciousness. “But we didn’t fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, don't you worry, Jon.   
> There's gonna be sex^^
> 
> @half_life, that Indy AU.... *mwah*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smutty chapter :)

Something hard is poking into Jon’s back insistently. He fights against waking up for a moment, but gives in when he realizes that the hard something is attached to a firm, warm body snugly pressed against his back. 

Jon blinks, experimentally moving his butt back a fraction - with the success of being poked even more and a stubbly chin hooking over his shoulder. 

“Morn,” Theon mumbles sleepily, his hand sliding over Jon’s side before he places a little kiss on Jon’s ear and shuffles out of bed. 

Jon turns onto his back just in time to watch Theon round the corner, dressed in nothing but a pair of Jon’s Totoro boxershorts - a present from Sansa and, coincidentally, Jon’s favourites. Jon sighs as the usual morning needs make themselves known, slowly getting up and after Theon. 

They meet in the hallway, and Theon stops to give Jon a small peck on the lips before going back into the bedroom. Jon licks his lips, hearing the bed squeak - apparently Theon’s not intent on staying up yet. Or maybe he’s waiting for Jon to--

Jon hastens his steps, washing thoroughly after taking a piss, finally taking a big gulp of mouthwash for good measure. When he taps back into the bedroom, manfully ignoring the Totoro boxers on the floor, Theon is snugly tucked under the covers, lifting a corner when he sees Jon. 

“Hop in. It’s too early to be alive.”

Jon does, after taking off his own pants, facing Theon as he crawls under the covers, giddy anticipation fizzing in his stomach. Early morning sex is something he’s always liked a lot, sometimes not even getting up before…

Theon breaks Jon’s train of thought, gripping his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He tastes of mint, fresh and clean, and Jon blesses his own foresight to take a swig of mouthwash too. 

They kiss languidly for a long while, tongues slowly exploring each other’s mouths. Jon’s dick twitches to life as Theon licks into his mouth, his body pressing eagerly against Jon’s. Jon moans softly, definitely not feeling exhausted anymore. 

Now he feels like he could do this all day, slow and lazy and intense. Theon is hard too, and now he shifts so that his dick slides against Jon’s. The kiss breaks as sparks shoot through Jon’s body at the touch, and Theon immediately nuzzles against Jon’s neck, lacing it with a hundred tiny kisses and licks. 

“I want to feel you,” he whispers, making goosebumps prickle where his breath washes hotly over Jon’s skin. “I want to touch you everywhere.”

Jon shivers at those words, not exactly sure what Theon could mean with that, but when Theon shuffles back and gently pushes on Jon’s shoulder, Jon rolls onto his belly without question. Theon stretches out half beside, half above him, his dick dragging over Jon’s buttocks as he stretches to place his mouth on a tender spot on Jon’s nape, sucking the skin between his teeth. 

“Relax,” he says once he’s let go. “Just relax and let me.”

Jon doesn’t feel like protesting, especially when Theon sits up and starts moving both hands slowly across Jon’s shoulders, heels digging into his flesh before moving over his arms to where Jon’s head rests on them, over his cheeks and through his sleep-tangled hair and down his neck to his shoulders again. 

It’s a slow exploration, methodic and exhaustive. Jon closes his eyes at this treatment, sighing happily as Theon’s hands move lower now, down his sides, his thumbs wandering up Jon’s spine, softly tracing every bump until digging into Jon’s neck. 

Jon groans out loud at the sudden shot of pain, but it quickly subsides as Theon kneads his shoulders. There’s a shuffle, then Theon’s warm weight settles over Jon’s thighs, his hard dick rubbing against the crease of Jon’s arse. All of it feels so incredibly good. 

“You feel amazing,” Theon echoes Jon’s thoughts, voice thick and low, making Jon tremble. “I want to feel  _ all _ of you. Can I… can I touch you?”

Before Jon can ask what Theon means, his hands slip lower, cupping his buttocks and kneading them gently, slightly spreading them. Theon moans, the sound making something sweet bubble up in Jon’s throat. 

“Jon?”

“Yes,” Jon hears himself say, his own voice husky and trembling. He’s not afraid of it, not really. It’s not the first time that someone touches him there, Satin had sometimes let his fingers graze over Jon’s entrance, with light pressure, and it had always felt good and enticing. 

And Theon himself had had his mouth there on numerous occasions, had made Jon feel incredibly good and incredibly dirty at the same time - but never had he tried to go further. No one has ever breached him, no one has ever been  _ in _ him. Jon shivers, his buttocks clenching in anticipation… and nervousness. He trusts Theon not to hurt him, but this is still something entirely new, something different. 

“I want to know how you feel,” Theon says, slowly letting his thumb run up and down Jon’s cleft, for a second grazing his untouched hole. “Just relax, Jon. I’m not going to hurt you. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

Jon takes a deep breath, making a conscious effort to unclench his muscles. Theon leans forward, his dick leaving a slight wetness as it glides over the small of Jon’s back. Theon kisses Jon’s neck, his shoulders, down his spine, ending on top of his arse. 

“Your skin is so soft… Are you as soft everywhere?”

Jon shifts, his dick, having been half-hard and pressed into the mattress during Theon’s touches, is filling with blood now. A gentle pressure against his hole, sudden and unexpected, has Jon gasp. 

It intensifies for a moment before being gone again, then the motion is repeated, another pressure, and Jon feels his hole give way to the intrusion ever so slightly. Theon moves his thumb over it in a circular motion, his other hand gliding up Jon’s buttocks and down again, spreading him open. 

“Lube,” Theon mumbles, more to himself than to Jon, he stretches to the side and unerringly grabs the bottle from Jon’s bedside table. He sits up again, opening it with a faint clicking sound, and then Jon feels the cool liquid drop between his buttocks. He shivers. 

Theon spreads the quickly warming lube all over Jon’s bottom cleft, and on one upward stroke he hesitates. Jon’s buttock muscles clench and he makes another conscious effort to relax. He can hear Theon chuckle somewhere behind him, then the pressure of a finger against Jon’s hole increases, until the tip dips in. 

Jon groans in surprise at the pleasure sparking through him, at the slow, slick glide of Theon’s finger inside him, deeper, then out again. It feels strange, and  _ good,  _ and Jon finds himself craving… more, somehow. 

Theon seems to know, a second finger joins the first, but the stretch doesn’t burn as Jon had thought it would. Instead it just makes him writhe and tremble and moan, and then those deft fingers shift and crook inside him and a new kind of pleasure surges through Jon, from his toes into the roots of his hair.

“I want to fuck you, Jon,” Theon whispers. “Not now, not today. Today I want to make you come like this, with my fingers in you…”

He shifts his fingers in Jon, confidently pressing them against his prostate, and Jon can only obey and come harder than ever before in his life, he’s sure. His orgasm doesn’t seem to stop, wave after wave crashes over Jon until he can’t take it anymore, he whimpers, and immediately Theon’s fingers are gone, he’s turned onto his back and lost in a seemingly endless kiss. 

His body still humming, Jon lets himself be held, lets Theon rut against his leg until he feels wetness there, lets his eyes fall shut. No wonder Theon falls asleep after, if that’s what it is like. A part of Jon wants it, wants it bad, but there’s another part of him that balks at the thought. Still...

“I want you to fuck me,” he mumbles, unable to open his eyes again, “some day.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, Robb. Gods I love Robb.

“I will end you, Snow. I will kill you and your whole family for doing this to me.”

“Er, I hate to break it to you, Robb…” Jon studies his cousin’s agitated face. “But that involves you too, so technically you have to kill yourself after killing me, your parents and your siblings.”

“Just shut up,” Robb grumbles, face like a thundercloud. “This ends all friendship between us, I hope you know that. I’d rather hang out with people _who_ _didn’t_ _betray_ _me_!”

“Robb,” Jon tries again, reaching out to lay a hand on Robb’s arm. Robb shrugs him off. “Robb, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done it and I swear every oath I will never do it again. Promise.”

Robb sniffs, his angry face slowly relaxing. His big blue eyes are sad now, the corners of his mouth drooping. “That really hurt me, Jon. But I forgive you.”

“Thanks.”

Jon opens his arms, Robb leans into them, and they hug for a long time. This is how Theon finds them when coming back from the loo.

“What did I miss?” he asks, slumping into the chair Robb had vacated in his anger. “Did someone die?”

“Me.” Robb’s brows gather again, and Jon quickly jumps in. “My fault. I totally didn’t think and threw a blue shell at Robb. I’m really sorry,” he says to Robb again.

“Well, how fucked up are you, Snow? Nasty.” Theon raises a sardonic eyebrow, picking up the wii controller. “What do you say, Stark, what’s the punishment for something that bad? Sitting out a round while making us his delicious hot chocolate?”

“Good idea,” Robb beams, “I haven’t had that since last winter - wait, Theon, what do you know of Jon’s hot chocolate?”

“What do you know of anything, Greyjoy,” Jon mutters, acting all pissed with crossed arms and a deep frown. Internally he’s rigid with fear. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“Shut it, Snow, take it like a man,” Theon says with an eye roll, then turns to Robb. “Are you serious, Stark? You mention that stuff at least a thousand times every year! Always making me crave it. Now,” Theon addresses Jon again with a snooty tone, “fuck off to the store and get what you need, just like a good boy. I’ll even pay.”

“Bite me, bite me, bite me,” Jon hisses, earning a reproachful glance from Robb. “Alright, I’ll go. Of course I am the bad guy now, after one lousy shell--”

“ _Blue_ shell!”

“Yes, Robb, blue shell, and again, I’m sorry.” Jon sighs. “You better give me your fucking money now, Greyjoy. Not that I don’t trust you, I just… don’t.”

“You wound me,” Theon declares, but scrambles to his feet again, which prompts Robb to take back his beloved chair with a delighted whoop. Theon shakes his head. “I have my wallet in my jacket, come on.”

Jon trudges after him into the hallway, letting Theon press him against the coat rack. “Seems like we’re in the love seat again when you’re back,” he whispers after kissing the living daylight out of Jon. “This is torture.”

“Yeah. We’ll make it, though.” Jon slaps away Theon’s hand that is wandering under his jumper. “Do we need anything else from the store while I’m there?”

“You’re out of dishwashing liquid,” Theon drawls, pressing a kiss to Jon’s jaw. “Still have to wash up yesterday’s dishes.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Jon grins, shoving Theon away after a last, brief kiss. “Get back in there, and watch your mouth, you idiot.”

***

Something has shifted between them since Theon had spent the night at Jon’s flat. It’s only little things at first, like pieces of Theon’s clothing turning up in Jon’s laundry basket when he’s doing the washing. At first Jon had no idea what to do with them. Now Theon has a drawer in Jon’s bedroom. He says it’s nice, having some spares, which means he can stay in the morning rather than going over to his place for fresh clothes. And slowly but surely Theon’s spares have branched out. Damn, that man has a lot of clothes.

He’s started to chip in for groceries and daily essentials, too. Only fair, Theon had said when he had come in with a huge load of toilet paper, and a pot plant. To liven up the living room, he’d said, and Jon is fine with that as long as Theon waters the thing himself.

More often than not Jon comes home now to find Theon already there, sometimes working on his scripts, sometimes cooking up a delicious dinner, making a hell of a mess in the process, and sometimes waiting in bed, naked and lazily stroking his dick. Jon can’t even say what he likes best.

And there’s another thing. Theon’s sister is going to stop over for a day between her travels, and Theon had asked Jon if it was okay if Asha spent the night at Jon’s place.

“You know I only have the couch,” Theon had said while kneading Jon’s shoulders, sitting behind him on the bed. “And I’m going to be here anyways, and it would be two birds with one stone, and I swear I’ll do the cleaning when she’s gone again.”

And of course Jon had said yes, what else does he have a guest room for if not for guests? And if his stomach is tightening anxiously because he’s going to meet Theon’s sister, someone he loves very much and whose opinion he values - well, that’s something he’ll get over.

He still prepares the guest room with special care. Nothing wrong with making a good first impression. That said, the biscuit tin had been a tad too much, maybe, so Jon stores that one in the kitchen. Theon likes to munch biscuits when they’re watching telly in the evening anyway, so they won’t go to waste.

Jon sighs, picking a used teabag out of the sink with a grimace. Of course there are downsides to having Theon here that often, but in the end it’s totally worth it. For having him here, Jon can totally live with a little mess here and there. Or with being woken almost an hour too early every day because he just can’t figure out Theon’s stupid sunrise alarm clock.

On his way to the living room Jon picks up several books he can’t remember buying, and puts them on the shelf next to his. That’s where books belong, not on the floor or the loo or the hallway cabinet. Or. Well. Under the couch. (Jon still blushes like a virgin when thinking about that.)

Theon’s bathrobe is on the floor, not on its hook, and Jon puts it where it belongs with another, long-suffering sigh - but he can’t hold back from smoothing down the fabric and, embarrassingly, burying his face in it and inhaling deeply. God, he loves that scent. It’s everywhere now, has permeated all sheets and towels and even the couch, and still Jon can’t get enough of it.

He straightens the shower curtain after checking the shower for stray hairs - his, always his and never Theon’s, which seems a little unfair, given how carefully Jon treats his hair. Theon just washes it twice a week with a supermarket shampoo, and it’s perfectly healthy and silky and feels amazing when Jon buries his fingers in it…

Lost in thought Jon nearly overhears the key being turned in the lock, he throws a scrutinizing gaze at his reflection before stepping out into the hallway to greet Theon and their overnight guest - who’s just taking off her leather jacket - and hanging it on a hook! Jon loves her already. She looks up, right at him with eyes just like Theon’s, and smiles Theon’s wide, mocking smile.

“Well, aren’t you a cute one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 more and we're done! O.o  
> And while this one is a liiiittle short, the last two will be longer^^


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think everyone should have someone like Asha in their lives.

“I want to fuck you.”

Theon’s hips are making small, undulating movements against Jon’s backside, his hard dick dragging up and down the cleft, and Jon tries his hardest not to shy away.

“Have you lost your mind?” he hisses, trying to turn around in Theon’s arms. “Your sister’s over in the guest bedroom! I can’t - we shouldn’t--”

Theon’s arms don’t go away, but they loosen their hold and Jon turns onto his back, not facing Theon who now mouths at his neck.

“Jon.” His voice sounds concerned, and Jon wants to kick himself, hard. “You have said no the last twenty times or so I have asked. It’s too early, it’s too late, the neighbours will hear, it’s too cold, you have to get up early, my sister…” Theon sighs, moving a fraction away. “If you don’t want it that’s okay, you know? Just tell me, I stop asking and ride you until you forget I ever asked.”

He sounds agitated, and Jon knows if he’d look over now Theon’s eyes would be honest and gentle and Jon would probably just take him by his word and pretend it has never happened. But Theon wants this, and Jon… Well, the truth is he wants it too, desperately, wants to know how Theon will feel when moving inside him.

He’s thought of little else these past months, even going as far as fingering himself on the seldom days when Theon isn’t there, pretending it’s Theon’s dick splitting him open. In these fantasies Theon is just like he always is, cocky and preening, gentle and firm and lewd and perfect, but he’s something else too, and that something else is what makes all the difference. In these fantasies, Theon is Jon’s.

And that’s where the rub lies. Jon had thought about it from time to time before, with Satin and even with Ygritte - Jon certainly wouldn’t put a strap-on beyond her - and there’s always been that common thought. He wants his first time to be with someone who belongs to him. Someone he loves. He’d had that with both of them, but Theon’s the first to propose… _this._

There, he’s admitted it. And Fantasy-Theon always complies beautifully, whispering the sweetest things when pushing into Jon, and real Theon - Jon cannot demand that from real Theon. Everyone knows that, even Jon knew before meeting him, that Theon Greyjoy is not one for big feelings and grand declarations of that sort.

Jon very much is, angry with himself for being unable to just enjoy the best sex he’s ever had, the comfortable company, the fun they have together, to the fullest - just because he wants the big feelings and the grand declarations. I’m a love-addict, he thinks grumpily, finally rolling over and pressing his face into Theon’s warm chest, letting the golden fuzz tickle his nose.

“I do want it,” he mutters, “but I guess I just want it to be right.” And right means, as soon as he’ll get over the bloody fantasy and has learned to be content with what he does have, which is a lot.

Theon chuckles softly. “Alright, Snow. We’ll wait for the perfect time and then I’ll make your soul tremble with my glorious erection, how does that sound?”

“Horrifying,” Jon says, but he has to smile at Theon’s comical tone, and that smile turns into a kiss to his chest, then a bite, Theon moans lowly, and just like that they’re not worried about Asha at all anymore.

***

She’s a delight, she really is. From the first moment she’s fitted into Jon’s life and flat like she’s always been around, and in minutes after first meeting her they’d been sitting around the kitchen table and Jon had nearly choked with laughter at her incredible tales.

She’s brash, crude, in some ways her energy feels more masculine than Theon’s, and Jon catches himself thinking he could definitely take a liking to her if his bed - and heart, dammit - weren’t already occupied by her brother. Like Ygritte, she’s a little scary, and very attractive, funny and witty and a blast to be around.

“I like your sister,” Jon says now to a half-comatose Theon, still draped over Jon and dripping come and lube onto his thigh. “She’s amazing.”

“She’s a pest,” comes the drowsy answer from where Theon is breathing warm, damp air against Jon’s neck, “but ‘m glad you like her. Think she likes you too.”

“She can crash here anytime,” Jon continues, trying to get Theon to budge a little so he can reach the wet wipes he now stores on his bedside table. “You know, even when this stops.”

Theon stops his struggle against Jon’s gently pushing hand, he lifts his head to squint at Jon blearily. “What stops? Snow, are you telling me you want to… uh… terminate our arrangement?”

“What? No!” Jon stops in his tracks, wipe hovering over his dick. “Of course not. I just meant that _when_ it’ll stop down the road it wouldn’t mean Ash can’t stay here anymore. Or you, you know. We’ll still be…”

“The best of friends?” Theon’s grinning again, and when Jon resolutely proceeds to wipe his dick he finds it hard again. “Don’t talk about stopping, Jon. I haven’t even really started with you.” He slithers up Jon’s chest and kisses him thoroughly. “Best friend I ever had, I told you.”

“Isn’t that Robb?” Jon asks as soon as he gets air into his lungs again, his hands sliding down and cupping Theon’s arse.

“Yeah, he’s a very good friend,” Theon muses, clambering up to straddle Jon’s torso. “But he doesn’t let me fuck his mouth.”

“Urgh,” Jon says, eyes crossing to peer at Theon’s dick bouncing in front of his face. “Who says I will let you do this?”

“Experience,” Theon shrugs, leaning back and taking his dick in hand, dragging the head over Jon’s lips. “That and your perfect blowjob-pout.”

Jon rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth. Who is he even kidding? He loves it, the taste, the smell, the strain in his jaw, the feeling of not getting enough air when Theon starts pushing deep into his mouth, the way Theon looks when he does, the things he says, the groan when he finally spurts down Jon’s throat…

“You get an A,” Theon mumbles later as he kisses Jon wetly on his mouth, lazily angling for Jon’s dick. “What do you want to do with this? Fuck my tight ass? Put it in my talented mouth? Good ol’ handjob?”

All of it, Jon wants to say, feeling greedy and near bursting. “I’ll see what’s behind door number four,” he finally says, bucking up into Theon’s loose hold. “You decide.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Snow,” Theon smiles, wide and phonily, voice actually sounding like a gameshow host. “You’ve won the main prize tonight - my tongue in your arse and my fingers on your dick.”

Jon can definitely live with that.

***

“I have to go.”

Jon mumbles something vaguely protesting as an answer, with the success of a low chuckle tickling his ear.

“Tell Ash I’ll meet her at the airport for a coffee before her flight goes, okay? And don’t go overboard with the breakfast.”

“Would never,” Jon says, turning his face blindly into the air. “Still see you later at Robb’s?”

“As if I’d miss the chance of robbing him - ha - of his money. I’ll just leave early to see Ash, but before that his money is mine.”

“Bye,” Jon says to the voice, eyes still closed, and smiles when he feels Theon’s lips on his.

***

Of course he goes overboard. If there’s one thing Jon doesn’t know it’s how to find a middle way. It’s always all or nothing, so all it is. Which entails apple and orange juice, coffee, a selection of different teas and ice water. There’s three kinds of cereals, a platter of cooked ham, prosciutto and salami, a cheese selection, brown and white toast, raw vegetable snacks, fresh fruit, yoghurt, chocolate and blueberry muffins and, in case Ash likes such things, two different soups.

“Woah,” she says, stopping dead when she stumbles into the kitchen at ten am. “I get the five star treatment? Nice!”

“Good morning,” Jon says, “did you sleep well? How would you like your eggs?”

Asha snorts into her orange juice, and Jon realizes he sounds like an overly enthusiastic waiter. With a sigh he slumps into the chair opposite Asha, throwing her a desperate glance.

“Too much, right?”

“I think it’s cool,” she replies breezily. “I always wake up ready to devour a grilled ox, so this is right up my alley.” She takes a huge bite out of a piece of toast. “Do you do this spread for Theon too?”

“No!” Jon protests, then sighs. “Alright, sometimes. Only on weekends. During the week I eat porridge while he’s still snoozing.”

“This is amazing,” Asha declares between two spoonfuls of pumpkin cream soup. “No wonder he moved in with you. Earthquake sex all night long and then such a breakfast - hell, I’d move in as well if I wanted to settle down.”

Earthquake sex? Settle? _Moved in??_

“Theon hasn’t moved in,” Jon says dumbly, stuffing a blueberry muffin into his mouth without thinking. He swallows the thing nearly whole and coughs. “He still has his own flat.”

“That’s because it belongs to our uncle. Can’t rent that out to strangers in case Nuncy needs a place to crash.” She moans as she bites into a toast topped with prosciutto, salami and pecorino. “Have you been there lately? I have, yesterday. There’s nothing there but some furniture and a lot of dust bunnies. There.” Asha looks around, pointing at a cactus sitting in the kitchen window. Jon has no idea how it got there. “That and all his other stuff, it’s all here. Theon lives here.”

“But we’re not, like, a couple,” Jon says, baffled out of his mind. “We’re just friends. Friends who… you know…”

“And live together, and eat together, and do everything together…” Asha gives Jon a mocking smile as she starts wolfing down the yoghurt with fruit. “I mean, I knew my baby brother is a little slow, but to think that he goes and falls in love with someone as dumb as him… that’s movie material.”

Jon can just stare at her, her words echoing in his head.

_He goes and falls in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly at the end, guys!  
> Tomorrow around the same time ;_;


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Get ready for the sap...

“Let your pants down, Greyjoy! I wanna see.” 

Robb is grinning widely, clutching the cards in his hands. Jon has dropped out already but Theon’s still in. He’s looking at his own hand as if he’s not seeing it properly, he seems dizzy and slightly out of it. And he hasn’t looked at Jon a single time since entering Robb’s flat. 

Jon, on the other hand, isn’t able to stop staring at him for a second. His mind is reeling, unable to form one clear thought. Theon, in love with him? This seems so impossible, so unreal, and yet if Asha says it is so… Maybe she’s reading the signs wrong, after all she hasn’t seen Theon in over a year. It just can’t be true, can it? Wouldn’t Theon have said something?

“Theon, show me your cards.” 

Robb is frowning now, slightly impatient when Theon fails to react again. With one quick move Robb has grabbed his cards and whistles as he looks at them. 

“Full House, eh?” He sighs dramatically, then slams his own hand on the table. “Four kings, man! Beat your ass again!”

He whoops and pumps a fist in the air, and Theon seems to wake up somewhat. “Well done, Stark.” He looks at his phone. “As sorry as I am not to be able to get my money back, I’m done. Have to go and see Asha off.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Robb says while smugly raking in his profits. “Pity I didn’t see her this time.”

“Yeah,” Theon says, seeming in thought again before visibly giving himself a shake - and looking right at Jon. “I’ll see you at home, love.” 

And with that he kisses Jon square on the mouth, lingering for a moment before straightening again and heading out. The front door falls into the lock. Silence settles. Jon stares at Robb. Robb stares back. A clock is ticking somewhere. Hell has possibly frozen over. 

“Ah,” Jon says. “Uh.” 

He feels as if struck by lightning, or hit by a bus. Robb is still staring at him with saucer-sized eyes. Slowly Jon starts to grasp what has happened. 

“That… I mean…  _ It was stronger than I!!!!” _ Robb says nothing and Jon buries his face in his hands. “Oh god… I know it must be a shock, he’s a guy and he’s Theon and I’m sorry and…”

Jon’s voice is getting smaller and smaller, he doesn’t dare to look at his cousin. Finally, Robb clears his throat - and starts hollering at Jon. 

“What the heck, I can’t fucking believe it, you mean you were into dicks the whole time and you had to pick my best friend and you didn’t say a single word AND WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU TAKE ME FOR, SNOW??”

Jon looks up, expecting to see Robb red-faced and angry and near a heart-attack - Robb’s face is a picture of boredom. What the… When he sees Jon looking he grins, and Jon’s world collapses for a second time in the course of ten minutes. 

“You’re not…” Yeah, what exactly? “...shocked?”

“Puh-lease.” Robb rolls his eyes. “That you’re into guys too? Knew since you started ogling my butt at family meetings, I guess. Not that I blame you,” he winks, “it is a pretty good one.”

“You’re my cousin!” Jon protests, ears reddening because of course he’s done it. Robb’s butt is a work of art, and Jon can appreciate good art. But… “I swear I never thought of you like that!”

“Oh I know.” Robb reaches over the table to pat Jon’s arm consolingly. “And I don’t even blame you for not telling us then, I know mum can be a little… yeah.” He frowns, and pinches Jon’s arm. “But that you thought  _ I  _ could have anything against that…”

“I didn’t, not truly.” Jon sniffs. “I guess it was pretty dumb of me.”

“Almost as dumb as you two took me for,” Robb says now, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, I had the vague idea you and Theon would actually hit it off but I have to say I didn’t expect to see both of you fall so hard so fast.”

“You mean you - what?” Jon cannot believe it. “You’re saying you knew the whole time?”

“Duh,” Robb says, pouting. “You were lighting up the room like a core meltdown on movie night. I had to drink myself into a stupor to not accidentally get radiation poisoning.”

“But why didn’t you say anything??” Jon cries. He feels like flipping out any second now. 

“None of my business, mate.” Robb shrugs. “I waited for you to tell me. But,” he raises an eyebrow, “Theon seems to have taken matters into his own hands. Where did that come from? You were both acting so weird tonight - I thought you’d broken up or something.”

“I didn’t know… Actually, until Ash told me off this morning… I had no idea… I thought  it’s just… sex.” Jon whispers the last part. 

Robb groans. “How stupid can you be? Oh god I wish you had talked to me. I’ve known Theon for almost all my life, and I’ve never seen him this happy and content. He’s head over heels, Jon.” Robb’s eyes get all shiny and he sighs deeply. “True love, man. I adore happy endings.”

“He hasn’t - I haven’t - we haven’t discussed it or anything. Asha says it, you say it… Robb, I think he’s moved in with me.”

“Then I suggest you go home and wait for him. Get the candles out. Rose petals. Wear that black lace thingie Sansa bought for you when you made that dent in Ygritte’s car.”

“ _ Robb _ !!!”

“Oh stop blushing and get outta here before I decide I am pissed at both of you for not trusting me.” Robb pulls a very stern face. “You owe me three dinners, minimum, and a crate of Casterly Black Ale, and let’s see what else I can think of.”

“Robb…” Jon feels like crying at so much generous forgiveness. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t you hear me? Piss off and get the guy, Snow.”

***

Waiting for Theon is agony. No candles, Jon has decided, and sure as fuck no petals whatsoever. He’s just going to wait in the living room, like he would on any day where he’s home before Theon. No racket, no fuss, no special outfit. Just good old Jon, no lingerie needed. 

The black lace outfit doesn’t even fit anymore - not that Jon has tried it on, but that’s a good eight years ago and he’s definitely put on some weight since then. His thighs would totally bust the garters, and he’d need the power of Westeros’ most famous wrestling brother duo to get him into the corset. Not that he would wear that ever again, just saying. 

It’s been over an hour of sitting on the couch stiff as a plank and nervous as fuck - Jon really tries to tell himself there’s nothing to be nervous about, it’s just, well, a new label really, but when the bell rings he nearly faints. And immediately wonders why Theon would ring when he’s got the keys. 

Swallowing dryly, Jon goes to open the door, pausing at the hallway mirror and arranging his hair with shaking hands, then opens the door. Theon looks at him as if seeing him for the first time, hands buried in his pockets. He’s shivering, dressed way too flimsy again, his eyes are too wide apart and his mouth is too big and he’s too thin and Jon has never seen anything more beautiful. 

“I hate that you talk with your mouth full,” he blurts out. “I hate that you make a mess wherever you go.”

“I hate that you fold even your dirty clothes,” Theon replies, breathless. “I hate your hair all over the flat - I love it on your head but not in my socks or on the towels or in my cereal.”

“I hate your inability to change the sheets,” Jon hurries to say, “and I fucking bloody hate when you take my Totoro boxershorts!”

“I love you,” Theon says in the same moment as Jon opens his mouth and says, “fuck me.”

They stare at each other, both open-mouthed like the idiots they are when the door next to Jon’s flies open and Mrs. Tyrell barges out. 

“NOT in the hallway if you please! Shoo, in there, and Mr. Greyjoy, I would very much appreciate it if you could take Mr. Snow’s virginity  _ silently!! _ ”

The door falls shut and she’s gone again, and Theon is laughing so hard he can barely keep upright. “So much for romantic declarations,” he wheezes as he coaxes Jon backwards and into the hallway. “I think we should start again.”

He takes a couple deep breaths, taking Jon’s hand, then shakes his head. “No, not in the hall. Living room? Or bedroom, what do you say?”

“I love you,” is what Jon says, location be damned. “I have for a while and I didn’t - are you  _ sure?” _

“As sure as can be, you moron.” Theon shakes his head. “Although it took my sister’s diplomatic approach and a series of… let’s say,  _ blunt _ … texts after your over-the-top breakfast to make me see that I’ve been in a very serious relationship for a long time. And I’ve been seriously dumb.”

“Me too,” Jon mutters consolingly, “I had no idea you live here until Ash told me. And then Robb said--”

“Oh dear, poor Robb! Was he very shocked?” Theon grins sheepishly. “I just thought, we’ll never have the balls to tell him, so why not just show him?”

Jon can only shake his head. “You talk to Robb on your own, yeah? Only fair after you’ve left me at his mercy today.”

“Will do.” Theon edges closer, letting go of Jon’s hand in favour of gripping his hips. “Did you mean what you said at the door?” Jon nods, and Theon pulls a face. “I don’t want to do that silently. I want to make you scream so loud it’s an eight on the Richter scale.”

“In that case,” Jon gives Theon a very quick kiss on his jaw before worming out of his grasp. “I think I have an idea.”

Ten minutes later they’re ringing Mrs. Tyrell’s bell, holding hands and both wearing their good-boy-smiles. She opens with a bellowed, “WHAT,” but eyes the stuff in their free hands curiously. 

A good idea, Jon thinks, to sacrifice the champagne he’s kept for a special occasion and Theon’s incredibly expensive, noise-cancelling bluetooth headphones. That and the promise of a five star breakfast some time had been enough to placate the wicked witch of the west. 

“Jon?” Theon asks as they head back and into the bedroom. “I’m fucking nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Jon says, dropping his shirt to the ground, unfolded. “It’ll be perfect.”

Of course it isn’t. 

There’s bumping heads, hair-pulling, giggling, Jon comes before Theon’s dick is anywhere near his arse, then when he’s recovered the lube is ice-cold, Theon can’t seem to stop his hands from shaking, and of course there is pain at first, and a couple false starts. 

But there’s also that feeling of being one, an incredible intimacy, being filled in every sense of the word, bodies pressed against each other, long sighs and whispered words, “I love you,” over and over again, and finally the most amazing pleasure Jon has ever known, turning his bones to water and setting his nerves aflame. 

He screams as he comes, Theon in him and over him and around him, Theon in every cell of his body, in every breath he takes, in every thought he’s capable of. And when Theon nearly suffocates him as he spills buried deep, clutching at him so hard Jon’s bones protest, he cannot help but smile. 

For a fantasy, it has been pretty perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done. Thank you all for reading and liking and commenting <3
> 
> Now back to the angst that is the pub AU - onion-chopping ninjas are responsible for that one XD

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this first part - as always I'd love to read what you think about it. (Or in other words, please give me comments XD)


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